Wolf Dreams, Halla Wakes
by ultrachicory
Summary: "The healer has the bloodiest hands. You cannot treat a wound without knowing how deep it goes. You cannot heal pain by hiding it. You must accept. Accept the blood to make things better." Journey alongside Inquisitor Lavellan in an AU-ish/Alt-Ending story that takes a deeper look at the lost power of Arlathan and how one elf stands on the precipice of giving it all back...
1. Heavy Rain

[Revised: 2/26/15] This is your first warning: Not Spoiler Free, Will Contain Profanity, Recommended for Game Completionists

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><p><em>"In ancient times, only Fen'Harel could walk without fear among both our gods and the Forgotten Ones, for although he is kin to the gods of the People, the Forgotten Ones knew of his cunning ways and saw him as one of their own. And that is how Fen'Harel tricked them. Our gods saw him as a brother, and they trusted him when he said that they must keep to the heavens while he arranged a truce. And the Forgotten Ones trusted him also when he said he would arrange for the defeat of our gods, if only the Forgotten Ones would return to the abyss for a time. They trusted Fen'Harel, and they were all of them betrayed. And Fen'Harel sealed them away so they could never again walk among the People." –Codex<em>

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><p>"Solas… Solas, it's time to move on."<p>

Opening his eyes, Solas woke from his dreams to the Inquisitor's soft spoken request. She gave his arm a light squeeze before pushing up from her crouched position. Stretching as he stood the apostate shook off the dregs of weariness, ready to continue their journey through the Hinterlands.

"My apologizes, was I gone too long?" he fought a yawn, turning to the elven woman who was already shouldering her pack and staff.

"Of course not, we all needed the rest." The Inquisitor glanced towards the dark gray sky, there were stills hours to go before evening came though the light was already failing. Their pause at these ruins hadn't been wasted but extending their stay wouldn't come without consequence. Urgent pleas had made it to Skyhold in the days prior and the Inquisition could not risk further instability in their neighboring territories.

"Did you see anything interesting in the Fade?" She pulled a well-worn hood up and over her short, white crop of hair, guarding her thin ears from the looming threat of rain that brooded quietly overhead.

"There wasn't much, honestly. Years of abandonment and neglect say this place wasn't very useful, never much more than a hide-away or store house in its better days." Solas answered, "It seems only the tired traveler is to hold any remaining, fleeting memories of this place."

"Then why are we giving it any more attention!" Dropping down from the cracked stone ledge he'd perched himself for their rest, Dorian waved his hand as he headed for the road. "Come now, can't we at least try to find camp before the end of this age?" he teased with barely concealed impatience. "There is work to be done after all."

Finishing the last of the cured meat he'd been chewing leisurely, Iron Bull strode down the crumbling steps. "And if we don't clear out those bandits everyone keeps worrying about soon then we can kiss getting paid goodbye." the Qunari groaned before marching off.

Chiyo shook her head. Her bare feet ambled quietly on the solid road as she quickened her pace to catch up and lead her party. "But we aren't getting paid. The people here have so little. They need our protection and to be able to use trade routes without fear of losing their goods, not charges tacked to their doors."

"Well you people aren't getting paid for this, but I most definitely am." Iron Bull proclaimed, mentally adding up his current fee. "Just point me to the bad guys, Boss, and if the fight's good I might take a few coins off the Inquisition's bill."

"If we could find them I would let you take the whole gang on by yourself if it would please you. But without our scouts looking ahead, tracking them down is almost impossible. The locals didn't call for aid without reason." Chiyo sighed languidly, taking comfort in their relaxing banter. At first word of distress the troops stationed nearby had begun a search for the new trouble makers but they had been less than successful in finding out who these men were or where they might be hiding. Each day brought forth new cries from the citizens- missing farming equipment, family heirlooms pilfered, trade wagons ransacked. There was even word of someone losing their boots to the unsavory fellows. The villagers themselves were also of little help in their search as they couldn't even agree on who it might be. Some cried "it was mages!" claiming to have witnessed figures in robes on the outskirts of town. Others attested to having seen men in armor vanishing into the woods; they pointed their fingers at rogue Templars. And a few said that they had perceived wild elves over taking carts on the twisting roads.

"With both patience and luck on our side this shouldn't be entirely difficult. To continue their raid they must come out of hiding. Or if they have caught wind of us perhaps they will simply turn tail and leave the area with what they have already taken." added Solas as he brought up the rear, pondering their current challenge. "We can assume they are from here originally however. They may not choose to run at first."

The fledgling Dalish leader looked over her shoulder as he spoke, eyeing him for useful ideas. "And how exactly do you suppose that?"

Solas continued, "Think about what we have heard so far. They attack homes of those who have had wealth, even if they have been forced to relocate over the last few months. The people are known to them by name and face. They choose trade routes that run through quiet places where travelers often stop in tucked away corners. Places they themselves would have used time and time again. These bandits easily take advantage of the local knowledge. They also appear to be stealing only items with easy resale potential, they don't want goods, not for long anyways. They desire wealth; something this area has not seen much of in great spread. "

"You sound like you have been in the business of sneak thievery before, Solas." surmised Iron Bull, while considering his answer and moving steadily ahead. "What gives you this kind of insight besides hands on experience?"

Solas almost laughed, amusement flavoring his words. "On the contrary, I only take into account what I have heard and borne witness to. There is some logic behind their behaviors; one must only pick up on the pattern. Consider how they have evaded our scouts."

"They're comfortable here. This is their land, their home." Chiyo smiled beneath the concealment of her hood, wondering exactly how long it had taken him to mentally figure. She'd seen his foresight before in the effortless way he manipulated a chessboard, always ten steps ahead of his opponents moves—but she herself had yet to challenge him. "If I were back with my clan, in our usual woods, it would be easy to avoid outsiders and slip into places easily overlooked."

"Well, I'm so glad you have them pegged and analyzed!" touted Dorian, twisting his mouth critically. "Now if only that shiny head of yours could set their hideout ablaze and smoke them out like the rat bastards—" He was cut off quickly by a loosely aimed strike from the Inquisitor.

"Don't be rude, he's only trying to help." She cautioned convivially. "You don't have to tease, that is, unless you are a little…"

"A little what?" he asked, a meticulous black brow rose at the insinuation.

"I think she's telling you not to be a jealous prick." Murmured the Iron Bull, trying hard to hold his crass, unforgiving tongue. Dorian would have sworn to the Maker that he had winked when he spoke but the eye-patch made it rather difficult to be certain.

Dodging her gamely pokes and prods, Dorian couldn't help but grin. The Inquisitor had a way of bringing out his impish antics. "Jealous? Ha! A prick is a term I can wear proudly, but envy is mantle I will not be donning. If we are searching for jealousy, it must be on Solas himself when compared to me. Besides, just look how well he already appears in it. So earthy and… rustic."

"Another stab at my attire?" tested Solas, eyes surreptitiously rolled towards the heavens. "At least your outfit will attract our quarry. They won't be able to help but loot you for baubles."

Their back and forth continued sparingly as they ventured across the sprawling expanse of the Hinterlands, looking for signs of trouble as they made their way to camp. The trip was oddly void of calamity, unless one counted an unpleasant crossing with a lone great-bear; it seemed that most of the residents had taken to holing themselves away closer to town if they could avoid the roads and outskirts.

A deep dark had nearly fallen by the time the party reached camp on the western edge of the territory and dinner became a quick priority. Unfortunately however, it seemed that their new enemy had already made certain to relieve their camp of its latest shipment of supplies. Food, healing potions, nearly all the camping materials they would need to care for themselves besides what they had personally carried had been filched the day prior as it traveled from Redcliffe Village. Deciding to eat what they had for the evening, the party opted to forage in the morning before they headed out to search suspicious areas nearby.

By first light, if it could be called such for as bleak and miserable as the trip was quickly turning out to be, the rain that had threatened their journey from the beginning finally started coming down. Hellish torrents battered the old and crowded tents, dampening gear, bedrolls and annoyed comrades all the same. The rain made progress slow. It was hard to look for old tracks in the freshly swelling earth. Local travel came to a complete halt as the streams and rivers stretched their slick banks, reducing the Inquisition's chances of catching the thieves red-handed in the open. Hunting options were abysmal , even the animals knew better than to be caught in the unforgiving down pour that soaked its way through three days and nights, ebbing for mere hours at a time before returning to everyone's grumbling displeasure.

Unable to venture far from camp but for mundane tasks, the sheer boredom and lack of adventure was beginning to weigh heavily upon the mind and patience of one rather petite and industriously-inclined Lavellan clanswoman. Becoming irritable as Dorian's frequent complaints about their 'camping trip' mounted, Chiyo found practical, albeit destructive ways to fill the time.

Solas found her slowly shredding a fibrous log into easy kindling, flinging the strips aside roughly, not caring whose bed they happened to litter by accident. She'd already crafted a loose pile in the center of the tent, but her persistence for keeping the shreds together had long since waned.

He tried to entertain her with stories from the Fade as they busied their hands further by stripping the soggy feathers from a few birds he'd managed to snare in the early hours of the morning. The mage told her tales of grand dwarven engineering and of human soldiers in acts of true bravery. He drifted between stories of lost cities that glistened with crystal towers and languages that no one had spoken in a thousand years. But mostly he spoke in a tone hushed and deep, a voice that pulled forth all the attention of her long ears and filled her morning with small pieces of ancient elvish lore. Dreams of magic so intrinsic and natural to her people it seemed inconceivable in comparison to the dying energy remaining in the current age.

By the time he finished the plucked birds lay aside in long abandonment. The mages sat close to one another on a bedroll, damp plumes clinging to their hands and knees. Nearly in a daze the Inquisitor sighed, her heart at peace, filled with the languorous gladness that came from his presence. It was only the apparent silence of the world around her that broke Chiyo free from the spell he had woven with his words.

"We… we should probably get these cooked if anyone is to have a meal beyond a raw mushroom or bread-tack." She said as she started to rise, brushing off her leathery breeches, littering the floor of their shared tent further.

A flicker of a smile played at the corners of Solas' broad lips. "Wait," He took her arm and softly pulled till she leaned, meeting him face to face. "You have a little something…"

Solas brushed away a piece of fluffy down that had clung to her quickly pinking cheek. His fingers lingered for but a moment, skimming across one of the tiny red branches inked into her cheekbones. "There, much better." He murmured before he released her.

Catching misplaced composure and straightening herself quickly, Chiyo gathered the naked fowl and moved to leave the steep sided shelter. "Thank you Solas, I feel better about this trip already." She rummaged for politeness, trying not to trip over her words or bare feet as she left the tent, biting her lip to contain the smile that pushed its way to the surface. Stepping out into the cool damp air she relished in a joy which was only multiplied by the small change in the weather. Though still gray and moody, the rain had stopped and appeared to be taking a much needed reprieve.

Chiyo's change in behavior did not go without notice. Try as he might, Dorian could not goad his friend into one of his aimless conversations that revolved around his commentary. No lack of seasoning for the meat, a need for wine suitable to the basic vegetables or want of delicate nut cakes was enough to draw against her mood.

"My dear," he said, pleasantly exasperated while dishing out the stew they had crafted. "If only I had been able to find such pacification like yours, I might be more tempted to enjoy this trip."

Pulling a spoon from her mouth, Chiyo shrugged away the inference. "It's the weather. If the Inquisition has taught me one thing it's to crave excitement. No rain means we can start searching again, and searching might lead to a good fight. I'm itching to get out there and do something about this mess!"

"You're itching to do something alright…" Dorian uttered before coyishly putting a piece of broth soaked tack between his teeth, enforcing his silence as he watched her lips pucker and ears turn red. She hurriedly stuffed her face to avoid further conversation as Solas and Iron Bull approached to partake of the light meal. Finished before the others, Chiyo made disconcerted efforts to busy her hands and mind once more in preparation for their search. Going through their packs she took note of their limited potions. They had no materials to craft more on site, but if she could gather enough ingredients she might be able to commission more from the town of Redcliffe, a near day's walk from their camp.

Knowing they may not have a chance to attain anything better, Chiyo pulled a spare satchel from her gear that would easily carry enough elfroot to sustain them, with a little extra room for anything else they stumbled upon, considering the bounty of the woods and fields of the sprawling Fereldan region. "Let's see, who would like to help me blow off a bit more steam? I need to move, this camp has gotten too stuffy."

Slightly suspicious but remaining neutral, Iron Bull spoke first, "What do ya need, Boss?"

"A good pair of hands foremost," she answered as she held and studied one of his scarred and massive hands, remaining on the missing segments of a few of his short digits. "I'm afraid these won't do Bull, this task requires delicate fingers."

"He is rather capable of being gentle on request," chimed Dorian, already settling himself into a bench seat with a book propped open against his knee. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"And you would be capable if you wouldn't take my request lightly." She scoffed back, rolling her head under the long strap of the empty bag so that it would cross her chest and rest on her hip without slipping off. Her eyes caught Solas' as she sidled up to him, thumb holding her chin in consideration. He displayed one of his long hands for her discretion, secretly reveling in the slow touch of her agile hands, warmth radiating from his palm as she tested the pads of his fingers. "Might I be of assistance, Inquisitor?"

"I guess these will do. I hope you are as deft with them as you are with your storytelling. This could take _hours_." She answered in an almost uninterested hum. "Grab your bag, and I hope you don't mind getting a bit dirty."

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><p>Holy crap! You've made it this far! Thank you for taking the time to start this journey with me. I hope you are prepared for a bumpy ride because it certainly is not going to get easier from here. I hope to get the next chapter done in the next few days and have it uploaded around New Years. I am new to the world of Dragon Age but I have spent a good deal of time obsessing reading as much information as I can to try to keep this story coherent to actual story information. But I am warning you now- there will be spoilers and I will be ruthlessly gutting and rewriting the end of this game because I really wasn't satisfied on where Bioware left us. Please, though, if you note anything horribly glaring and wrong, tell me so I can read more and correct it! Currently, this story is slotted to be in 6-8 parts (complete, blasphemous lies...) depending on how crazy I get.

Thanks a million!

-Erika


	2. Seeds of Change

Mud streaked up her shins. Sticky, green stains coated her fingers. The Inquisitor only lacked the hair to catch leaves in and complete her wild appearance. Solas trailed behind, watching and listening as she checked behind bush, tree and rock for herbs. Spying a tender leaf of elfroot dangling just overhead off a rocky ledge he offered a leg up and was faintly surprised when she refused. Instead she handed him her staff and started the ascent on her own.

"You forget I was born in the wilds." Chiyo teased down to him, her nimble fingers and free toes finding tiny purchases in the crumbly stone, small pieces loosening in the effortless scramble. "What good would I be if I couldn't climb?" The strength of her limbs did not fail her, bringing her easily over the obstacle. She assessed the underdeveloped plant, determining which leaves would yield the most utility.

"Hmm, these are a little small. I can't take much from this one." Picking only a few of the largest leaves Chiyo carefully blotted away the moisture that clung to the foliage with a soft, dry corner of her sleeve and stacked them gently together with the others in the small satchel.

Refraining from offering to help her down, Solas waited for her to cast off the edge and return to the sodden ground. "I would never doubt your abilities, Inquisitor, my manners sometimes get ahead of me." He returned the weapon and they continued along the twisting ravine that led away from camp.

The Inquisitor appeared as though she'd returned to her element, a chance she had rarely gotten over the past several months considering their arduous trials. Her heart seemed lightest amidst a world of trees instead of towers and battlements of stone. Solas noted, though even in her energetic stride, relieving all the pent up energy from having been cooped up, her steps flowed gently atop the tender, rain-soaked grasses that licked at her heels. They would have been sorely crushed under a boot or less careful wanderer. It was in her character to leave as small of a mark upon the natural world that she could, to only take what was necessary.

Her pale hair shone in the muted light that broke its way through the rain-laden branches as she moved. The quiet apostate was deeply reminded of the many springs he had spent in solitude, wandering the deep wilds and plains to the north. There had always been something incredibly soothing about being near the undomesticated herds of halla that grazed with their young. Bright-eyed and full of life, yearlings with their first horns were the most adventurous. The world was so delightful and new to them, no traces of fear to be found. Some were even brave enough to dare approach him, sniffing at his feet as he rested, oblivious to any unforeseen hazard. Perhaps if they had known the danger he presented they would never have come within any range…

"What a perfect embrium!" Distracted from his internal discord Solas looked to Chiyo as she caressed the delicate flora, tracing the fibrous edges with adoration. "This one even has a gift for us, if we can keep it dry." Pulling a slender, short blade from the belt at her hip she delicately removed a solitary seed pod, plump to near bursting from the excessive rain. Once properly dried and opened it would yield dozens of tiny red pearls that would take root if cared for properly. She expertly made a small pouch out of extra herb leaves to wrap the pod in, twisting the tips and stems to protect it from potential damage. She gently sought a place in her satchel but found all the spaces filled to capacity. Elfroot, spindleweed, embrium and even a piece of crystal grace threatened to overflow the bag.

Rummaging through her pockets Chiyo tried to find some small, safe home to store her latest treasure, but other trinkets and small trifles had already filled the spaces. Tiny gemstones rolled in a pouch by her hip, a rusted locket, an engraved ring and a marred cameo took up room beneath her vest. She had even tucked a few glossy feathers into the seam of her hood, all to be added later to her growing collection in her quarters at Skyhold. But somehow they had failed to be left behind from her last journey.

Chiyo mumbled, becoming embarrassed by her hoard. "Maybe if I had boots I could…" she trailed off, her avoidance of footwear only changed in the most harsh of climates. She hadn't packed a single pair for this trip either. The mage could barely feel the thick layer that had built up to her ankles, she'd traversed uncountable leagues unshod before and becoming the Inquisitor hadn't changed her opinions in dress much to the disgruntlement of the humans she'd befriended.

Solas reached out, plucking the seed pod from her hand. "If you trust me to keep it for a while, I would gladly see it back to camp." He offered, pulling the front of his robe forward enough to tuck it away inside a pocket against his chest.

"Of course I trust you," answered Chiyo, a suggestive smile quickly followed. "Besides, if you don't remember then I will have to retrieve it from you myself. If those bandits don't take it from you first, that is."

"Ah," he replied, playing into her game. Solas doubted any true form of theft, but the idea of her searching his person for hidden claim was nigh on risqué. "But then you could discover what other prized possessions I might have. It would be a true shame to see them stolen."

Chiyo stepped nearer, caution in her movements, trying hard not to scare him away. There was always the sense of a boundary between them, difficult to breach without pushing Solas back further behind the remote walls he'd built up for himself. A single finger browsed the blackened reliefs and ridges of the jawbone he wore as a constant totem. "I can't imagine how interesting the things you don't display could be in comparison to this."

Resting his hand lightly on hers Solas stopped her exploration. "Perhaps one day I will tell you that story, but for now…" He reached behind her neck and pulled the thin hood up, covering her slender ears. "It's going to rain again." Slow, fat droplets thudded on the moist ground and made the puddles tremble as the weather rapidly turned sour once more.

Chiyo clasped the leather bag tightly to herself, complaining slightly as the crystal blossom cracked just beneath her over-enthusiastic palm. "Oh no, the herbs! They're just starting to settle, if they get wet again they could mold." Fretting in place she took his arm by the sleeve, pulling him into a jog. "This way!"

Trying hard to stay beneath the cover of the trees they made their way towards their encampment. The seasonable rain returned with renewed vengeance, blinding their eyes as they traveled. Feet sliding in the thickening mud the way became treacherous and threatened to stall them further.

"Fenedhis, I'm already soaked through." puffed Chiyo, desperately trying to keep the bag she carried sealed. She nearly slipped and fell when Solas halted unexpectedly, catching her off guard as he veered briskly back towards the broken hills that flanked them.

"Then let's wait for it to pass again." He ducked beneath a dead tree that leaned precariously against the rocky walls of the ravine and stepped below a protective ledge of stone, a small shelter from the storm. "We aren't far from camp; this will do for the moment." He added, catching his breath and wiping water from his brow.

"Thank the gods, or the Maker, or flying nugs for all I care." Chiyo pressed her way as deep as she could into the tiny niche, letting her arms slacken from their vice-grip on the herbs. "Sharp eye. I wouldn't have noticed this place."

Solas could not evade her in such tight quarters. He would have liked to maintain the only tool in his arsenal that seemed to work – cool and calculated reserve. It protected him from Chiyo's well-meant company, though he considered it more in her best interest than his own. Close enough to feel her shivering in her drenched leather armor, to feel her soft breath dance past in steady pulsations; it was hard to keep his sentiments in check. It made her too physically and unavoidably real. If he remained distant enough the apprehensive mage could pretend he had the same control he that he did in the Fade where sense of self and willpower meant everything.

He craved to embrace her till she was warm once more but his actions that morning in the tent had already fringed upon his self-imposed, disintegrating limits. As much as he cared he still wasn't sure of what he wanted to do about the ever present tightening of their bond.

It had been weeks since their kiss in the Fade and there hadn't been time to resolve his request to consider the implications. The fallout of Haven's destruction and the maddening amount of work that was going into restoring Skyhold meant that he didn't have to explain his stalling. Everyone was busy, what with the world falling apart in every far-flung corner. Handling the new recruits that arrived daily was a full time task by itself, though mostly managed by their resident Commander, but they all wished to speak with their miraculous Herald. Long hours and lack of time went without saying. He had seldom seen the Inquisitor since their arrival and he was grateful for the short minutes they had found together after their shared dream. Chiyo did not pry him any further but he could see through the questions veiling her brief visits to the rotunda. 'I'm waiting. Have you decided?' He could almost hear her say as she inquired about his journeys into the Fade and what vague information she might glean about their enemy, Corypheus.

It had greatly astounded Solas when she requested that he join her on an emergency trip to the Hinterlands, he had even recommended Varric in his stead. But she had refused to take his suggestion and he knew he couldn't decline her the simple pleasure of his company. Solas could deny her very little actually; the warmth of her gaze melted the icy, aloof exterior he used to keep others at arm's length. The layers of secrecy and half-truths he had wrapped himself in felt too thin, like weathered gauze, in her presence. Yet he desired, almost desperately, to allow her to strip them away piece by piece till he could hide no more. But then again what would she think of him if she knew the truth. What limit to her affections would he careen against and never return from.

The risk seemed so pronounced yet he couldn't abide the notion that increasing his detachment might cause her pain. But nor could he petition for further affections or valuable time, not when the rest of the world required so much of her as it was.

Dropping his pack from his shoulder Solas drew out an old, thin cloak. He could not offer his arms, but he hoped it would be enough. "Here, Cassandra would never forgive me if I let you fall ill under my guard."

"No one gets sick from a little rain." Chiyo asserted, welcoming his offering nevertheless. She wrapped it avidly around her shoulders, covertly enfolding herself in his temperate scent. Olden woods in dry autumn, soft pines with lingering sap, clean water from a deep pool. "This was my idea to begin with… don't tell me you're afraid of Cassandra though."

"Afraid? No, but I have seen the woman wield all manner of weapon on many occasion. She commands boundless respect from me. Leliana on the other hand…" Solas suppressed a shudder, and not because he was damp or cold. "That is a woman who has experienced too much hardship in this lifetime to know what she is capable of behinds closed doors."

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><p>"Oh look! The filthy bandits have decided to turn themselves in! Praise the Maker, we can go—oh wait, and it's just you two." Dorian joked as the elven half of their party returned to camp, soaked to the bone and caked with mud. "And what excellent timing, I was just getting ready to explain to Bull here my thesis on the implications of time travel. How, potentially, going back and changing something as unassuming as what you ate for dinner one evening could result in a full blown civil war!"<p>

"That sounds all well and good but I am getting out of these wet clothes." Chiyo groaned, mentally fancying a hot, perfumed bath and the missed comforts of her favorable feather bed. "If I have to do it in front of you, so be it." She threatened, half-heartedly pulling at the ties of her garments.

Brushing past the sarcastic Tevinter mage Chiyo thrust the loaded bag upon him. "Please, do something useful and get this ready to send out. See if the officers here would mind making a trip to Redcliffe. They can stop for a hot meal for all their troubles."

"Fine then, let me ask the excited looking fellow who got here before you, not that he's been dying to tell us some form of news." Dorian divulged as a he peeked inside the damp leather satchel.

Chiyo stopped making her way to the tent, already pulling at the first layers of her gear. "If he wants to report he can do so now." She sighed, waving the scout over.

"Ser!" A young man stood at the ready, he looked tired from his travels but beamed with pride for being chosen to speak directly with the Herald of Andraste. "I have brought something of interest."

"Report, soldier." Commanded Chiyo, assuming the role of leader as best she could, though it was a heavy mask to constantly bear.

Presenting a rolled map the scout proceeded. "The remains of a large camp were discovered this morning with obvious signs of both men and freight on the move. It appears to us that they are taking to higher ground, perhaps their previous location is suffering from the weather. We have noted the camp and the direction of movement as well as locations we are watching for activity."

The muddied Inquisitor studied the map and notations, her weariness quickly being replaced by enthusiasm. "Excellent work, we will do our best with your efforts. Now, if you would see to Ser Pavus he has another mission for you that should be to your liking after being out in the thick of things."

Peering over her shoulder the Iron Bull began to nod in approval. "If we can catch them mid-transition it will be to our advantage." He pointed to a small grove tucked up high in the hills. "Leaving now… we might be able to reach this place before they have a chance to scratch their ass twice."

"Grab your gear then," announced Chiyo, handing off the map. "There is little time to waste."

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><p>They moved swiftly in the dying light of evening, no more than muffled footfalls between the trees as the party hovered on the outer reaches of a deep seated grotto. Men's voices could be made audible now, the shapes of their bodies outlined by the red light that managed to bleed through the clouds above the high peaks in the distance. They sounded at ease, hoisting bags and crates from their wagon and setting them in piles to be sorted. As they neared, eyeing their targets with sharp determination the inconsistencies from the early reports became apparent. As a group they appeared at first to be an ill-suited hodgepodge of people. Here the desperate dregs of Redcliffe's society had gathered to take advantage of the uncertain times. Without homes or family connections they had each grown tired of watching other's thrive where they had failed so miserably. Grave looking men in similar dark armor worked alongside boorish mages and slighter fellows in bastardized elven garb. The longer they looked the more they realized how poorly fitted most of the equipment seemed to be, torn and broken in places with ordinary clothes poking out from under the appropriated regiments. The only items that seemed to be in good repair were the weapons each man bore. Swords, bows, and a few staves kept ready for battle and always within reach.<p>

"Looks like disguises looted off those lost during civil unrest…" whispered Dorian under his breath, reaching for his weapon as he kept watch on what would be his first target, a dangerous looking cretin of a guard displaying a pair of axes on his back.

"Let's be quick about this, but allow them to surrender if they will." Breathed Chiyo, casting a barrier over herself and her comrades, static energy sparkled on the tip of her lowered staff. A moment's mercy was all she would offer if the enemy chose to stand down but any threat would be dealt with promptly.

"Watch my back. I want the first bite." Volunteered Iron Bull, stepping forth without hesitation, a dangerously sharp axe resting lazily against his shoulder. The urge for battle sang deeply in his blood, it made him itchy and ever more daring. Marching ahead as if he owned the world beneath his feet the Qunari hummed a menacing tune. Men looked up from their tasks, bewildered by the sight of a horned giant casually walking into their new camp.

"I heard that there are some pretty big assholes here that like to fuck with other people's shit." He announced as men began to shout warnings out to the rest of camp. A dozen appeared at first, then another ten or so followed likewise. "Did no one ever teach you manners? No? Well you have lucked out today! I'll teach you something about those!" he cried heartily as the first man raised a weapon to attack. Smashing through his sword, the Iron Bull knocked him to the ground with a violent swing from his heavy blade. Metal clashed, sending shockwaves through the camp that resounded with furious outcries.

Chiyo's lightning danced along the wet ground, bounding off the muddy pools of water and startling several bandits, beginning a series of brutal attacks as they defended their camp and precious loot. Though numbers were not on their side the tiny team felt confident in their ability to deal out a reasonable fight, picking through the ranks as best they could, working hardest to take down the most hostile thieves first.

Bit by bit, their enemy slowly collapsed in defeat but not without a few painful knocks and strikes of their own. By drawing away from the massive warrior in frenzied bursts the three mages had to act quickly to keep the attackers at bay and off one another when someone needed to heal. Maintaining the barriers was exhausting but completely vital to their success, it was all that stood between them and the razor sharp edge of a great-sword or dagger. The fight raged on for what felt like seconds and eons simultaneously.

Dripping with sweat and splattered with blood, Iron Bull looked like a walking nightmare, cleaving the head of a brute off with sadistic accuracy. "Ha! Meet your death, cowards!" he called to the last two men still standing. They quickly opted to run for their lives, the Bull hot on their heels.

"Try to take them alive!" pleaded Chiyo, grimacing as she watched the Iron Bull tackle them to the muddy ground without delay. Shaking with exertion and the strain of using so much of her magic Chiyo leaned on her staff, closing her eyes and quieting her mind from the chaos around her.

"How did you fair?" she groaned to her nearby companions.

"Well enough," Dorian responded, kicking aside a lifeless man as he tested a sore arm. "I'll be feeling this tomorrow though. I can already sense a few lovely bruises coming in."

Solas rubbed at a thin gash across his hand and forearm, he could already feel the skin gradually knitting itself back together thanks to his last potion. "I have seen far worse. It is more unfortunate to see such bloodshed over goods; their greed has cost them dearly." He motioned over the fallen men that lay dead or dying in the dirt.

Dragging along a single survivor, the Iron Bull rejoined the group. "This one's buddy decided to fight instead of giving up like the wriggling worm he was." The man's arm was badly broken and he held it gingerly and remained silent while he was forced to his knees by his well-trained captor. A nasty gash oozed steadily across the Qunari's chest; though he gave the injury no notice it looked terribly uncomfortable.

"Here Bull, one left. Could you spare some with our prisoner?" proposed Chiyo, offering up the last of their reserves.

"If you insist, Boss." He shrugged and held up his hand. Chiyo raised her arm to toss the potion, the bottle had just left her fingers when her sharp ears registered a slight noise to her left—the creaking wood of a short bow and thrum of a string.

"Got you now…bitch…" were the final, unheard words of a dying man just before he let a last arrow fly and collapsed back to the earth where he had lain in stupor from his wounds. He'd hidden beneath his fallen compatriots, praying for just enough breath to finish his last wish. His heart was filled with hate for the Inquisition and he blamed Inquisitor Lavellan entirely for the complete ruination of his former master the magister Alexius, a man who had promised wealth and power to those is Redcliffe that offered their immediate services during his fleeting escalation to power. With Alexius stripped of his authority and influence all other hopes and dreams for wickedly wrought success had died instantaneously. Unable to relinquish his self-entitled goals this man had joined league with the growing clan of bandits. He would have the coin he so critically desired even if it meant taking it from his neighbors, and now he would have his revenge in its stead. It seemed that the gods themselves had sent his enemy stumbling onto his path and he had the perfect gift waiting for her.

Struck suddenly, just beneath her extended shoulder, the arrow slipped deep beneath a failed point in her scruffy armor. Chiyo cried out, staggering with the impact. The neglected bottle toppled, smashed against the soil, and spattered the ground with its precious contents. Iron Bull's rage surged once more as he charged towards the ailing assailant, forcing his way through the wreckage and dispatching the man whose time had already run beyond short. The last survivor tried to run, stumbling as he went before Dorian finished the fool off in a flash of fire.

Solas hurried to balance the Inquisitor before she fell, clutching at her throbbing arm in anguish. "Inquisitor!" he shouted as he eased the collapse to her knees on the wet ground.

Chiyo growled viciously, teeth clenched tight. "Son of a- hhhhh." she sucked for breath and stifled a whimper in her throat.

"Try to hold still," calmly recommended Dorian as he knelt down to assess her shoulder, holding a piece of her armor to steady them both. He wrapped his hand around the arrow's shaft. "I'm going to remove it. Sorry your Worship."

Enraged by the title she detested beyond all others Chiyo howled, forgetting her pain for a fraction of a second. "Don't call me th-!"

A swift, sharp motion brought forth a torrent of foul curses from the Dalish elf who could hold her tongue no better than she could hold back a river with her bare hands. Strings of mostly unbroken phrases singed Solas' ears; words that he thought he wouldn't hear again in his lifetime. It was almost comforting to know that the elves in this clan hadn't lost some of the more colorful aspects of their language…

But did she really have to be invoking the Dread Wolf at a time like this?

"And I won't use it again, I promise. You can give me trussed in ribbons to the Venatori if I do. But I didn't want you to tense up when I pulled, it would have been so much worse if you braced for it." He wrinkled his nose at the sight of a grooved arrow head, "Well this doesn't look sanitary, would have been nice if he had washed this first." Dorian tossed it aside and performed a small healing spell, strong enough to slow the bleeding and ease some of her pain. Out in the wilds with depleted supplies, there was little else he could offer.

Solas showed his escaping worry, brows knit together, jaw holding tension; he didn't like the look of that arrow. "Are you going to be alright?" he inquired sympathetically, keeping a hand on her shaky arm.

"Hey Boss, I smashed that asshole's head in for you!" called Iron Bull from across the battlefield.

Chiyo tried to smile, shaking off the adrenaline and burning ache in her shoulder. She was supposed to be the Herald, the Inquisitor and a proud Lavellan after all; she had come too far to show weakness now. She would not allow herself to snivel and cry over her wounds. Steadying her breathing, Chiyo bravely pushed her way to her feet. "Let's just head back, I'll be ok. I promise."

* * *

><p>Oh dear, I really didn't expect to hit this chapter so hard! It seems that my guesstimate for 6-8 chapters may be a bit undershot, but I just can't seem to help myself, can I? I sincerely hope everyone is enjoying things so far, this has been quite the warm up for me. Oh, but if you simply abhor watching a sweet budding romance bloom into something that might be love then I may deter you from the next installment. Though you might like it anyways, who am I to judge? It'll be our little secret. :)<p>

-Erika


	3. Not a Hero

[SFW, mentions non-sexual nudity]

* * *

><p>The Inquisitor feigned health stoically for the entire trek back to camp though it became rapidly obvious that all was not well. She struggled to keep her breath and continuously fell to the back of the march. They had searched thoroughly over the stolen loot and found little that would be useful to them now. It seemed their stolen rations and supplies had been consumed long before they arrived but they would leave what was left for the villagers to recover later.<p>

"I'm perfectly fine." The stout-hearted Lavellan claimed, brushing off repeated inquiries about her wellbeing. "Just a bit worn out, aren't you?" Her forced behavior only worsened after the Iron Bull offered to carry her the rest of the way. Chin thrust high she moved with wavering enthusiasm and refused to say more until they reached the welcome sight of a quiet camp. Lit only by unattended embers and starlight through the broken cloud front it was difficult to see just how far her condition had fallen.

Renewing the flame they settled around the fire for leftover stew as a victory meal. Chiyo nauseously observed the others take their fill. Forgoing any attempts to eat she offered her untouched food to Iron Bull with tremors running down her uninjured arm.

Solas did not like the clammy look of her skin nor its drained color, but without her consent for help it would do little good to question her. She would only fight her symptoms harder and force her suffering deeper inside.

"Boss…"Bull began to ask as she rubbed her temples; he looked to Dorian with concern.

She groaned in frustration. "It's a headache, please, don't worry about me. It was a difficult fight after all."

The charming mage shook his head, "Perhaps you should lie down. I think we would all feel better if you got some rest."

Chiyo took unsteadily to her feet, "Maybe you're right…Good evening." One uneven step followed another as she ambled to her tent like a new fawn. She stumbled sharply when her legs crossed, muttering about exhaustion.

"And 3… 2... 1." Dorian counted down before motioning to the Qunari, just in time, to catch the Inquisitor with one hand as her strength and will dissolved. Slumped over his outstretched arm, the whole of her torso fit easily in the expanse of his palm and fingers. She felt too light as he hauled her barely conscious body into their shared tent.

"Who wants to play 'guess the deadly substance'?" asked Dorian, his face turning from chipper to solemn. "Considering all the wonderful plants in Ferelden alone, we could be guessing all night."

Solas stood and began rifling through their supplies. "This is no time for jokes." He snapped, tossing useless items aside. There had to be some form of medicinal supplies left. A few scraps of cotton and a half-used roll of sticky webbing were all he could find. "We should have dealt with this sooner. You suspected this just as much as I."

"You say that like we could have pinned her down on the road and forced medicine we don't have into her!" Dorian clucked as Iron Bull left the tent. "Would have gotten our fingers bitten off, feisty little creature."

"I don't think we have the time to argue over this." Bull warned, rubbing splotches of blood from his hands. "That wound is open again."

Dorian retrieved his map and studied it carefully as he adorned his gear once more. "Then let's do something before she is beyond our aid." He pointed and groaned at different locations, trying to decide his course. "I'm not sure what we should attempt, honestly."

The Iron Bull prepared as well. "What's nearby?"

"Not much. Running the whole time we could reach Redcliffe by dawn if we head due East without following the road. But we could be stalled or get lost in the dark." The Tevinter mage paced as he weighed the options, "A few leagues north is the farm, we would waste time with the detour but a mount could double our pace to and from. Or we could try to reach the other camps along the way to see if they have potions but a healer in town would have better ingredients- like the ones we just sent- or even an antidote."

"Why are you volunteering to go, I could be swifter considering the terrain." questioned Solas, unsure of Dorian's navigating abilities.

Dorian rolled up his map and disagreed, "Why are you so willing to leave her, do you think so highly of yourself? Just because elves can see better in the dark doesn't mean we are bumbling idiots. Pfft, you're just mad that you aren't being picked to play the gallant hero who will come back on a white horse with the dawn to save the virginal damsel." Staff in hand Dorian looked towards the road. Before leaving he pulled Solas aside and spoke softly. "You and I both know that, if worse came to worse, our dear Inquisitor wouldn't be asking for me in her final moments…"

Solas glowered, clenching his fists to his sides. "She is _not_ going to die."

"Of course not. We aren't going to let her; half the Inquisition would lay down their lives for her, including us." Dorian proclaimed, beginning to walk away. "And it isn't just because she can close rifts or that the Advisors would skin us alive as traitors for getting her killed. Do your best and trust us to do the same."

Solas watched with plummeting hope as they left, fading silently into the darkness that consumed the world just beyond the camp. He was by no means skilled as a healer. Solas never required much for himself and had minimal experience in mending others. Racking his brain for any knowledge that might help he gathered what few items he had. He tore the cotton into manageable pieces and placed them in a bowl of water. The wound must be kept clean, Solas knew that much. He entered the tent, unsure of what he might find.

Chiyo had regained most of her consciousness but was far from well. She clenched her arm tightly to her body, struggling to use the good hand to remove her gear. Her anxiety filled eyes settled on him as he pulled the tent flap back and approached. "I don't have time for this," she groaned, catching herself mid-sway, "I will not be brought down this way. I will not die in a muddy hole in the middle of nowhere."

Solas knelt beside her, laying out the materials he'd brought with him. "Who said you were going to die, there is no reason for such dread." He asked coolly, wearing his calm like a stone mask. With a minor flame from his fingers he lit a small lantern on a crate that had been used as a card table on previous evenings. The last hand remained there still—the winner's spread out in victory and the loser's over turned in defeat.

"I could hear all of you speaking, the hushed voices, the arguing." Chiyo's nostrils flared with pain as she gave up her efforts. "I cannot fail now. There is too much depending on me. Solas… If something happens… you must take this mark, cut off my arm if you have to."

"That will not be necessary. The mark would more than likely fail with you and be lost." He could see the cracks in her confidence widen as her tone slipped into despair. So much weight upon one pair of shoulders, a burden she had never asked to carry. "This is not what I meant that day when I remarked your indomitable spirit. I did not wish to see it broken so easily."

Chiyo dropped her eyes, ashamed, as her dizziness returned. "I'm sorry to have disappointed you." She replied hollowly, "I will remember to never let you see such weakness again."

Solas softened, he had spoken too carelessly. "That was not my intention. I am only trying to offer you help. I do not believe that you are anywhere near giving up but it pains me to see you suffer so. Might you allow me to aid you?" he offered his upturned hands sympathetically. The Inquisitor considered his words and eventually nodded, trembling as she let her willful defenses fall.

"Your wound, it has waited long enough." With trepidation Solas gently began to undo the layers that were supposed to protect the Herald. Scuffed bracers unbuckled, cracked leather belts untied, bloody doublet unlaced. Her armor had been worn thin in places and repaired too hastily with scrap materials. Solas could only guess as to why she would be wearing such substandard gear. Pulling her jacket off had been the worst. It tore at Solas' heart to hear her restrained cries as she straightened her arm to allow the ruined garment to be peeled away. Left only in her damp tunic and breeches she fell forward, collapsing against his chest and shoulder. She gasped slowly into his neck as tears stung her eyes. Every muscle screamed in agony.

Solas pulled her good arm up to drape across his neck and shoulders. "You don't need to be resilient tonight, Lethallan. Rest now; I will be your strength." He allowed her to relax a few minutes, soothed by his words, before tearing through the fabric of her shirt. He let the pieces fall as they may until he could see the deep puncture in her back. He wrapped one arm around her before beginning the slow process of washing away the blood that had caked her skin. Wipe, rinse, and repeat. Measured, tender movements. He turned the water in the bowl red and revealed thin, purplish streaks that radiated away from the seeping wound. If only he had something to slow the spread of the poison and ease her pain.

He suddenly became aware of the small, hard knot that was pushing against his chest as Chiyo shifted. Joy sprung up within him as he remembered the seed pod wrapped in elfroot leaves. "Forgive me, but I must use your little prize. You've entrusted me with the only herbs we have."

Chiyo struggled to remain alert, her body felt so drained. "I'll forgive you in the morning if I see it…"

As steadily as he could he lowered her down to the bed, propped on her side. Solas removed the small bundle from the pocket under his robes and left the tent, taking the gruesome bowl with him to empty. He set a small iron pot with fresh water directly in the embers to heat as he worked, grinding the leaves into a thick paste that would soon coat a small cotton square. Into the pot he tossed the embrium pod, split open to allow its juices to be boiled down. He hoped it would be enough. Though not a strong restorative, it could be used to provide some strength and energy. Chiyo would need both if she were to survive the toxins that polluted her blood. He poured the steaming liquid into a cup and returned to her side. She hadn't moved, but her bruised eyes remained open.

"You made tea." The Inquisitor faintly smiled, remembering his distaste for the beverage.

"Not quite," he replied as he set it aside to cool. "It will taste far worse I'm afraid."

"This might sting." He warned as he applied the poultice, sealing it to her skin with a layer of sticky webbing. He was able to pull her up into a seated position once more before removing what remained of her tattered tunic that hung uselessly off her shoulders. He tried to avert his eyes from her bare breasts, but a small item dangling above them from a necklace he had not seen before took his complete focus. On a delicate chain hung a long tooth, bone white and worn smooth, the root pierced by a ring that had been driven through with great care. It was a fang she wore. A wolf fang.

Chiyo would have blushed if there had been any warmth left in her. It was not the exposure that embarrassed her, but the way he stared, eyes bright with unspoken curiosity.

"Would you like to hear the story?" She croaked. Her throat felt dry and raw. "It's a good one…"

"My apologies!" Snapping from his transfixion Solas immediately broke his gaze and handed her the brew. He stripped off the heaviest layer of the robes he wore and transferred it to her shoulders; helping her pull her arms through the sleeves he covered her nakedness. The necklace remained visible, standing lone like a guard above her heart. Chiyo struggled to stay upright as she sipped the sharp, rather bitter brew. Unbroken seeds still in their flesh floated in the water, she would swallow them as well.

"If you let me lean against you once more I will tell you." She murmured, taking in another mouthful. With care and reservation Solas sat beside her on the low bed. He pulled her onto his lap, pressing her uninjured side to his body and letting her weary head rest upon his chest. She felt so cool to the touch, so terrifyingly chilled. He offered the warmth of his arms and was not refused. "I shall listen."

Chiyo closed her eyes, holding the metal cup with both hands, the heat soothing on her fingers. "It is my reminder for the day that changed everything…" she began, speaking softly, as if in a dream.

"When I was a young child I always wanted to be a hunter like my cousins. They were older and they teased me constantly, playing tricks and games when I wouldn't let them be. One day, after I had been particularly bothersome and scared off their prey they told me I had to catch a fennec with my bare hands and bring it back alive or else they would never speak to me again. I was so upset I took off right then, dashing into the woods in tears. I searched for hours with little luck, and it was starting to get dark by the time I found one. I was already tired but I chased it as fast as I could but I never got near enough to grab it. It tried to escape through some bushes and I pursued it without thinking. Next thing I knew I was sliding down a rough drop, head over heels, and I crashed hard at the bottom. That's how I got this scar." Chiyo gestured at the thin line that ran from her scalp to just above her brow.

"I woke up surrounded by old bones and strips of fur. The fennec had dodged me by slipping past a wolves' den, clever beast. My face and hands were bleeding, my arm was broken; it was so hard to get back on my feet. By the time I pulled myself together I saw several pairs of shining eyes circling about. Growls started getting louder, I was so afraid…" she began to trail off.

"Finish your tea." Urged Solas, jostling her slightly. After a long drink she continued.

"One of the big wolves started to come towards me and in desperation I put out my hand and begged him to stop—you wouldn't believe it, but I felt magic for the first time that night too. There was this pressure all over my body, and in my palm -whoosh! Fire jumped out and scared the wolves away. I was able to make it far enough back to be found. Everyone had been looking for me. It was the healer who discovered this fang stuck in a wound on my hand." She faltered, fingering the small totem as she reminisced. "I had come back to the village as a potential mage; my cousins didn't pick on me any more after that. No one did actually, I didn't realize it till later but it seemed as though they may have been fearful of me then. Perhaps it's why they weren't too upset when I left for clan Lavellan."

Solas took the now empty cup from her hands and set it aside. Her tale weighed upon his mind, so many questions he wanted to ask her. To him, her story sounded so much like a legend of forbidden and ancient art. It almost signaled a natural act of blood magic breaking down a seal on her own powers. But if that were true, who had sealed her and why had they attempted to keep her from her magic in the first place? "Does this storytelling ease you?" he implored, feeling for a pulse against her wrist. Thready and thin, she had lost a good deal of blood.

Chiyo closed her eyes for sleep. "Yes, but it is taxing to speak. I would prefer your voice to my own."

Solas held her quietly for a time, praying that her rest would not be filled with pain. "Then I shall tell you a tale. It is very old but from what I have learned there are pieces of it that may have been true. It is a story of a man who tried to do the impossible."

"Was he a great hero?" Chiyo's voice was failing but it seemed empty of suffering.

Solas allowed his head to droop, resting against the softness of her short hair. "I'm afraid he wasn't. He believed that he was right though, and that idea nearly cost him his life."

"Sounds like a good story to me…" whispered Chiyo as Solas drew them both to lean against the side of the tent, reclining gradually.

"Many ages ago there lived a man caught between two warring factions. Though he was brother to both he could not chose a cause to ally with. Each side wished for the control of the land and people they ruled over separately. One side had been in power for generations, but their line was falling to corruption and they were too willing to shatter themselves with greed. They sought to break all dependency from the people that supported them, preferring to order them into lives of servitude. The other faction was growing in strength, feeding off the fears and discontent that some people were harboring against their once beloved rulers. They offered up power in exchange for loyalty but this began a deep grudge between the common folk, inciting them to fight one another and leave a hatred that would burn for ages to come. The ensuing battles threatened to tear the world the man loved so much asunder as each group tried to overtake the other, but they were too well matched. They called to their brother in an act of final desperation. 'Give us a weapon to smite our enemy with. Help us stop them before it's too late.' They cried out to him, trying to appeal to his reason for he had seen much and traveled to all the places they themselves could not go.

"He knew of a blade, hidden between the frays that would turn the tables of favor for whoever wielded it. He told each side to have faith and to wait for him back at their keeps to plan a last battle; for he promised both that he would return when he found the weapon they coveted above all others. While his brothers locked themselves away to plot in secrecy the man released the great magic in the blade he had taken for himself and used it to seal them all away, cutting them off from the world they had struggled so fiercely for. But using the blade came at great cost and took nearly every drop of his strength to wield. It left him broken amongst the people he had freed. The common folk became distraught over the loss of their mighty rulers; they mourned their chance for power and fell into deep despair, wallowing in their abandonment. They cursed the man and cast him out, leaving him to die alone for all his troubles. But he did not die; it is believed that he vanished into the darkness, taking his weapon with him. His name would be eternally damned and few would ever speak it but in anger even as its meaning was long forgotten."

Solas fell silent, listening to the slow, steady breathing of the woman in his arms as she ebbed in and out of sleep. "Rest easy, Inquisitor." He hummed, pulling a warm blanket around them both.

"Chiyo…" she mumbled, just before slipping into unconsciousness. "Call me Chiyo…"

Solas smiled, testing the sound of her name in his heart.

"Goodnight, Chiyo."

* * *

><p>Alright! Another one down. Are we ready to stop here and call it good? Hell no! But show of hands, who might like to see a brief*, re-written overview of the events at the Winter Palace? I know its been done but I have wanted to redesign the formal wear and add to their behavior for ages now... Vievenne promised a dress to the F!Inquisitor after all...<p>

Also, Lilybud found me out. Yes, I used to write gobs of fanfiction in my younger days, mostly for animes. But I had a pretty big falling out with my work and I deleted everything because of how unsatisfied I was with it. A few college courses have helped me immensely though I am still far from perfect.

(* I don't really do brief... remember when I said 6-8 chapters? Lies, all of it.)

Thanks again for reading, this story has brought me such joy and renewed my urge to write.

-Erika


	4. Sweet Indulgence

'What were you thinking? Have you lost your mind?' Solas asked himself, over and over again as he irritably wandered around the camp. It was hours past dawn with no sign from the rest of the party. The Inquisitor remained asleep. It had been such a relief to find her still breathing when he had risen. Motionless and pressed up against him for warmth he'd forgotten for a blissful moment why she was there. Solas relished in the sensation of having another so close. He'd noted only a small stain of blood on his robes when he helped settle her into bed, leaving Chiyo to recuperate unaccompanied.

She was alive and his world had not yet collapsed around him, it was something to celebrate.

'Why not just paint it on the walls, let everyone see!' Instead he was chastising himself fiercely for all that he had said to her the previous evening. The slip of endearment had been the least of his offenses. How could he have told her the bare bones of his own story, a secret he had never once uttered before to a living soul? It was so imprudent of him and left his situation in a precarious bind. Should she figure out the identity he'd been so careful to bury it could mean the end of all his efforts. Were she to out or reject him the Inquisition would most certainly turn against the tolerated apostate. He would be persecuted by hundreds as word spread and forced back into hiding where he would watch the world finally succumb to the madness unleashed by his own rash hand.

'Perhaps she won't remember, or fancy it a dream.' He attempted to reassure himself, ignoring the pounding in his chest, his pulse singing in his ears. "How could I be this much a fool…?" Acutely, he already knew why he'd slipped so far. For the brief moment when Solas considered that he might lose her, when the cold of her skin frightened him more than he'd thought possible, he had grasped desperately upon a moment where he didn't have to be so utterly alone. That even in death, her knowing but the partial truth would have released the heavy anchors from his tortuous soul. He could have thrown the rest of his life into the void and been content, for his story would have been heard once and persist beyond his solitude. If only for a few precious moments, he would have been free. He loathed the selfish notion of it all.

Solas the liar, the fool, the madman. Fen'Harel, the Trickster God incarnate, did not deserve her mercy.

The Inquisitor's kindness and intelligence was wearing his once steadfast resolve unnervingly thin. The comfortable world she offered him, though he could give so little in return, called to his very core. That wondrous spark, the thoughtful, penetrating nature of her soul threatened to bring him to his knees. He didn't know what alarmed him more- the fact that he _could_ care so much for another or that someone else might… He dared not even think the word. No one could harbor such feelings for one who had ruined everything out of pride. All the woe afflicting the current age could be traced back to his choices. Chiyo's own suffering was brought upon her by his hand.

Cowardice would not let him surrender to her affections. Pride wouldn't permit him to flee from her side. "What ungodly ruination is this, what hell." He groaned, holding his aching head in his hands. Solas was so consumed that he'd barely heard the approach of a wagon.

"Solas! Oh tell me, please, tell me we aren't too late!" Cried Dorian as he descended from the driver's bench. The Iron Bull leapt down to take hold of a sweating, exhausted steed.

Solas dropped his hands in relief, deserting his fanatical contemplations. "Forgive me, no. I was lost in thought, she lives on. Much too stubborn to perish." He eyed the vehicle for a moment, curious as to why it was loaded with crates of vegetables, baskets of fruit, distressed looking chickens in cages— "Did you steal this cart?!"

Dorian shrugged and mimed a rascally 'perhaps' before he fled for the tent with the medicine he'd brought back. "Inquisitor it is I, your knight in shining armor, come to rescue you!"

They heard Chiyo groan, rather unhappily roused. "Why so loud…"

"Sorry, he was practicing that line the whole way here." Iron Bull began to unharness the overworked animal. "This was all we could find so early in the morning. We'll take it back." He offered as he patted the horse. "How was last night?"

"I would rather not repeat it." Solas collapsed unto a log, already sapped of energy. "Let's just get back to Skyhold without nearly killing anyone else."

Once she was well enough travel the party made the long trip back to Skyhold, having had enough of the Hinterlands for one journey. Dorian filled their voyage with recounts of his heroism, adding new aspects each time he retold the tale of his midnight dash across the wilds. Bears, ruffians and even some watery tart holding up a sword in the Upper Lake soon stood as testament to his bravery. Chiyo would laugh and play along; winking at the Iron Bull who rolled his eye behind Dorian's back each time he re-embellished the tale.

Solas however remained quiet most of the time, avoiding prolonged contact with the Inquisitor as much as possible. Chiyo wondered what she had conceivably said or done on that dark evening to have upset him so. She remembered most of the night, so she thought, even if some of the details were hazy at best. But she would never forget the care he had shown her. That much she knew to be real and not a delusion of the feverish nightmares that had soon followed. More than once she had seen a wolf prowling at the edges of her dreamscape. Eyes shining, waiting keenly in the shadows, it stalked her movements in silence. The beast was there each night that followed until they reached home. She wished she could speak to Solas about the matter but he seemed beyond approach. Perhaps the visions were just from her mind playing tricks as the body healed.

* * *

><p>"What in the name of hell are you doing?" Harritt the blacksmith jumped back from his workbench as a pile of ruined armor was dumped on his table. His shouts echoed through the undercroft, loud enough to startle Dagna from her work as well. He looked up from the shield he'd been repairing to the unnerving sight of an apostate glaring at him.<p>

"I would ask you to explain your work." Solas crossed his arms and waited. "You've heard by now about the Inquisitor's latest ordeal."

Harritt picked through the dark, filthy leather abomination. He held up the shoulder guard that had been pierced, inspecting it half-heartedly before pitching it aside. "This garbage is not mine."

Solas did not accept the answer. "You have personally been responsible for the entire inner circle's gear since our days in Haven. Where else would she have gotten armor from?"

Picking up his tools, Harritt went back to work. "Not even her size. Probably picked it up from some cheapskate merchant. If she didn't like the armor I made her she should have come to me first. She's probably been lying to me about my wares this whole time."

"That's not true!" Dagna approached warily, fiddling with an unfinished blade she had been experimenting on. "I know what happened to her original set… She gave it away."

Frustration boiling, Harritt cast aside the small hammer he'd been swinging. "Oh for the love of Andraste, why would she do a foolish thing like that?"

Dagna cleared her throat as both men's eyes turned her way. "Because she cares too much. I saw a young recruit wearing it a few days ago before being sent out to scout Haven."

Harritt was utterly beside himself. "And you couldn't have mentioned it before she left?"

"I asked her!" Dagna chewed at her lip. "But she promised that everything would be okay, just a short trip."

The furious knot in Solas' stomach eased and he rescinded the blame he'd been doling out. "Then let us all be sure she keeps her new set. If you wouldn't mind crafting another. Please do not hesitate to request whatever materials you need. " He bowed slightly and took his leave.

* * *

><p>Chiyo was exhausted after her first meeting back in the war room. She felt roasted under Cullen and Leliana's heated questions and mortified under Josephine's critical gaze. 'How many times did she plan on nearly getting herself killed' seemed to be the general theme. It was decided that she should not attempt such irrationality more than once per month if she could avoid it. Cullen especially, had acted the most concerned, mincing words as he stumbled through his distress. At least there had been the distraction for their plans at the Winter Palace to derail them from their alarm. A royal assassination attempt and trying to stop it were far more pressing than the would have, could have beens of her latest adventure.<p>

She sighed before biting into a still warm sweet bun. Chiyo had slipped unobtrusively into the kitchen in hopes of beseeching the cook for a morsel or two. Her recounts of the poor meals she had endured in the Hinterlands had been enough to soften the woman's strict heart. It wasn't the first time the Inquisitor or other residents had come poking around for small treats when the smells of her baking wafted through the fortress's main hall. Chiyo had even offered to watch the buns herself while the cook stepped out for more ingredients.

The main door opened suddenly and she froze mid-bite into her second helping, eyes wide with guiltiness.

"What a heavenly fragrance, you have certainly outdone—" Solas paused and cleared his throat. "Inquisitor… I wasn't expecting to see you here." He gripped the door and turned to leave.

"Wait! Here, didn't you want one of these?" Chiyo offered up one of the deserts.

Solas stopped, "No, I don't usually care for sweets." But the famished look in his eyes gave him away.

Plating the bun, she set it on the table that stood between them. Chiyo licked at the sticky glazing on her fingertips. "Then what did you come here for. If not tea or sweets, dinner isn't for a few hours still…"

The temptation was too great. Solas abandoned the doorway and sidled over to the table. "I simply wished to speak with you." He claimed.

"But you didn't know I'd be here?" She smiled and finished her own stolen treat.

Solas gave up the small ruse. "You are too bright for me. I was hoping no one would find out that I have been persuading the poor woman into giving out more than my share. I would request a moment of your time nevertheless."

"By all means." Chiyo left him to eat while she searched the cupboards for a jug of spicy cider she had happened upon during a previous visit.

He took to a chair, savoring the feel of soft, warm bread against his teeth. "Dagna told me a curious tale about your armor. I wished to understand your reasoning."

"She didn't have shoes." Chiyo answered plainly, spying the container tucked behind a sack of tubers. "Real shoes with thick soles or lacings like shems seem to prefer. Just strips of hide."

Solas turned over a clean mug for her. "The recruit you mean?"

"Nor a coat or any gear, yet she survived the trip here and still wanted to give more." She pulled the cork and filled the glass. She gestured him to grab a second cup and poured another. "So ready to give her young life away to the Inquisition. The least I could offer her was coin for good shoes and equipment worthy of her sacrifice. She's even smaller than I am, too vulnerable for such risky work."

He mulled over her sincere expressions, hiding his frown behind the mug he held to his lips. What value did she hold to her own life if she was so prepared to sacrifice her own security for a complete stranger's sake? "What would you ask for yourself in return from the Inquisition? You have already given them everything you have freely."

Chiyo shook her head, tracing the heavy ceramic edge of her drink. "There is an opportunity here that is greater than my own desires. I have a chance to do something good for the future of the elves, even if I only succeed in bringing them a little dignity." The enduring injustices of her race always lingered in the back of her mind, surfacing more and more as she furthered her interactions with humans. Her people were far from perfect, too proud of their heritage and struggle to work for a better life, but they deserved to be left in peace. If she succeeded in saving their world, what prize could she claim for her efforts?

Solas couldn't help but implore. Her lack of selfishness was dumbfounding. "Do you ever think of yourself?" Her low laugh that followed reminded him of distant thunder rolling, a gentle storm on the horizon.

"Constantly." She vied for another snack. "I will never be able to live without sugar again. We never had such sweets back home. And such rich butter! Wild honey did well enough, but this is on an entirely different level."

Solas held out his plate, joining her in the indulgence. "You continue to surprise me, Chiyo. What end is there to your mystery?" A smile bloomed across her face, beyond that of generous gluttony. Bliss settled where anxiety should have remained in his worrisome heart.

"Eat; we must hurry before the cook returns."

* * *

><p>"Oh Inquisitor… red is your color." Josephine cooed to the Inquisitor as she stepped out from behind the changing screen.<p>

Ambling forward gracelessly, Chiyo tried her best not to trip and ruin the exquisite garment. "It just doesn't seem very practical." She stepped gingerly onto a short platform, holding her breath as the seamstress ducked and bobbed about.

A quick prod from Vivienne corrected her posture. "Don't slouch dear, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You will be laughed out of Orlais if this hem isn't straight though. This will be your armor against the court. It must be utterly flawless."

"But isn't it a bit much?" she pleaded, having her hand slapped for attempting to pull at the top of the dress. Cutting straight across her breasts her shoulders were left completely bare. The wound inflicted weeks before had dulled to a dark scar, but it would not distract from the beautiful gown.

Josephine continued her dotage. "Boat necklines, open sleeves, with that creative girdle, Madame de Fer your designs are ingenious! Do you have your sketchbook?"

Vivienne waved to the nearby table. "You may look but if I see any of my work coming from your closet over the next few weeks I will be most displeased."

Chiyo fiddled with the intricate golden metal that encircled her most of waist. Reaching as high as her sternum allowed a filigreed eye and sword made up the center of the design. She would walk into the Winter Palace displaying the sign of the Inquisition so none could question her presence. "Dancing in this will be a nightmare." She muttered to herself.

"Do you like it?" Vivienne asked, straightening a piece of the glittering fabric so that the shallow pleats that began at her thighs hung true. "You certainly have the figure for formal dress."

"It's breath-taking. Your gift is far too generous." The Inquisitor replied honestly, for it did feel like she couldn't fill her lungs thoroughly. "I have never known such finery. But what if there is fighting, won't it get in the way?"

Brandishing two distinct looking slippers, the Orlesian took her time holding each against the dress. "Any woman worth her salt should be able to conquer the world and look stunning at the same time. But if you can survive the night without getting blood on your clothes I would recommend it, though the color will help hide a few transgressions."

"I hope you're right. I have a bad feeling about this ball." Chiyo wrinkled her nose slightly and curled her long toes at the sight of footwear.

"I would be concerned if you didn't feel uneasy. Court is no place for the inexperienced." Vivienne cautioned. "And don't give me that look. You will not go barefoot in front of Empress Celene!"

* * *

><p>Ok, another short chapter to ease my soul. On to the next challenge, though I have decided against ruining all the spoilers for this game. Ya'll have been playing it; I don't have to spell everything out for you. Right? ;) No full re-write for Wicked Hearts, instead some Solas perspective, maybe the last fight and a better wrap-up. Besides, we have more stuff to get to!<p>

Onward-ho!


	5. A Dangerous Dance

[Lite Spoilers- if you haven't completed the Winter Palace quest line then this might be a bit rough…]

* * *

><p>"And one, two, three. One, two, three. Turn, turn, watch that chassé! It's the second step, dear. Better! Open shoulders. Don't look down, eyes on me. One, two, three. Feel the music."<p>

"There is no music, you just keep yelling at me!"

"The music is in your heart, Inquisitor, follow it!"

"Can't we do this somewhere quieter? People here are trying to read."

"Focus! The ballroom will be full of people. Learn to feel them around you. Command your space from them!"

Solas tried as best he could to ignore the racket coming from the library upstairs. He'd been working on translating a rather complicated chapter of ancient elven ritual, but the frequent crashes and hurried apologies continued to interrupt his focus. Straying from his notes he glanced up to catch the Inquisitor being dipped extravagantly, the tips of her ears nearly brushing the floor. The move had earned Dorian a short applause from the archive visitors who had not fled for fear of being run over as he gave a dancing lesson.

"Round once again, lovely! If you watch your feet one more time I will cut them off!"

After a few more tiring twirls around the second story the pair seemed to grow weary of their exercise. Back to dissecting the implied theory of using water as a natural conduit to pool multiple spells together as a collective. Beautifully constructed patterns to keep the magic true but the annotations in the margins were horribly flawed.

Soft, floating chatter. Worry about forgetting the steps. Reassuring praise. He could return to his work without further disruption with the rotunda settling back into unobtrusive routine as the voices became static in the background.

An abrupt cacophony of crows, someone must have bothered them again. Jostling, shifting from high above. A rope snaps, metal crashes, the birds continue shrieking.

"Just ignore it…" Solas mumbled to himself, leaning harder over the text. Regret for his choice of workspace rose, but locking himself further away would have only added to the quiet suspicions many kept in his regard. The constant public exposure was easier on them. It made others feel safe and in control. His actions and involvement had cleared his name to most, though trust never came free for apostates. Not even for those who had volunteered under the direst circumstances.

"Oh no! Poor thing. I can't reach, lend me your staff."

Alarm in her voice, the bird still crying out, struggling.

"No good. Dorian! Come back, we can't leave it like this! Just hold my arm." Wood creaking, straining under too much pressure.

"Inquisitor, it's just a crow!"

"Leliana needs it in one piece! Do you know how long it takes to train? Just hold still."

Daring to glance up once more, Solas' stomach dropped to the floor. Chiyo's feet were tucked under the thin wooden rail that encircled the second floor of the rotunda. One hand held by Dorian, leaning back as her counter weight. The other stretched to its limit, grasping at a young bird tangled in rope and netting that had been supporting a small cage. The full length of her body hung over the emptiness of his room. A small slip and there would be nothing to keep her from splattering on the stone.

"Just a bit more!" Chiyo urged, her fingers so close. "There!"

"Have… have you gone completely daft!" Solas heard the words escape his mouth, watching the bird come loose and Chiyo nearly do the same. Dorian strained to pull her back as she swung precariously. The dangling bird cage finally broke free and shattered against the floor, inches from his desk, with a garish clatter. Solas did not breathe again until she was safe on the other side of the short wall. Hands shaking, he stuffed his notes into various books, and then stormed out of the room. "What utter recklessness, is there no peace here? And why is it whenever there is trouble it is always the two of you behind it?!"

"Ehh, looks like we've upset the poor creature." Dorian chortled, leaning over the rail to watch him go.

Varric jumped as the door behind him swung open loudly, slamming against the wall. "Hey Chuckles, why the rush? Did Sera set fire to your sofa again, or was it mice in the desk like last week?"

"That woman… If I get my hands on you, ar tu na'din!" he fumed, heading through another door across the hall and disappearing, angrily shouting about how foolhardiness and lack of fear should never be bedfellows.

Chiyo came running down the stairs moments later, looking up and down the hall. "Was he that angry?"

"Oh, so it was you. I don't know how you managed to scare the shit out of him this time, Inquisitor, but I might consider letting that one cool off. His head might boil if you aren't careful." Varric resumed his casual lean next to the fireplace. "I really hope those elvish curses don't hold up. Sounded pretty wicked to me…"

"It was just a dancing lesson…" She groaned with embarrassment.

The dwarf snorted. "Must've been one hell of a lesson."

* * *

><p>"Are you being treated well? I've worried that people might be unkind." She looked uncomfortable, seeking the solace of his counsel once more. Already the strain of painted smiles and disillusioned exchanges gnawed upon the limits of her passivity. The confidence she had cloaked herself in just hours before had begun to fray. 'How much further can she bend before breaking? How many whispers of 'knife-ear' or 'rabbit' have been gathered by her sharp hearing as she passed?' Solas wondered, offering her wine and further guidance.<p>

Her initial delight and excitement had burned out, though it had been fascinating to watch her attempts at playing the game. A few toes hand been stepped on, but she had given her best efforts. The nobles may have forgiven her oversights if she'd been human. Under different circumstances Solas supposed that she may have enjoyed the party to some extent. The witty conversations would have been easier if the consequences not so grave. Introductions might've been more pleasant if she hadn't spent weeks memorizing the names, portraits and favored interests of the elite. Even the tantalizing appeal of the sex and power that permeated every hall and corridor could have become a marvelous game in comparison to her reserved flirtations.

"The food and drink are excellent, however, and the servants have been happy to refill my glass. You should eat something." The drink she accepted, but she wouldn't touch the food. She'd been too nervous to eat anything that day and her distrust of the people around her made her hesitant to indulge. The Inquisitor looked the part of a wild creature forced into gilded harness and paraded before the nobility. Pushed into doing small tricks, allowing pats on the head and playing punishing games only to be rewarded with table-scraps. Her handsome gown and pleasantries might make them forget the sharpness of her bite, but to Solas, she looked ever more dangerous. What a sight it would be once she'd finally had enough.

"I wish I was as easy as you are around these people. It seems that court life suits you far better than I'd imagined, as do other things..." A spark in her remained as she eyed the clean, dark lines of his chosen attire. She drained the glass and placed it beside the statue Solas had been leaning upon through most of the evening as a convenient shadow to spy from. "Your advice about following the elves was sound. I've asked Cassandra and Varric to meet me by the servants' quarters. Something is very wrong here, but we need more evidence. Follow me."

Resuming her proud façade, Chiyo strode towards the Hall of Heroes, passing the multitude of guests with feigned indifference. Solas granted himself the pleasure of giving her a head start. Perhaps it was the wine or the ball's atmosphere itself, but he felt little need to hide among the masked. Here he could afford to take liberties he seldom allowed back at Skyhold.

Though the style and confines of the dress would never suit the Inquisitor's disposition the view of her walking away wasn't without… merit.

* * *

><p>"You cannot be serious."Solas dodged a flying slipper. "I would advise you against such an idea."<p>

The Inquisitor continued to pant, bent severally at the waist. The brief skirmish had left her winded. Using only her bare hands to concentrate her magical attacks required more focus and energy than casting with a staff. She had also mentioned to no one that she still didn't feel perfectly sound again from the poisoning. Having been kept away from battle since her last trip to the Hinterlands, her sluggish progress went unnoticed to most. Chiyo was still tiring faster than she would have liked but determined to fight regardless. "I.. can't breathe! Can't… fight! Damn these shoes!"

Cassandra growled, watching the struggling Herald. "This is precisely why I voted for uniforms, how could we not expect having to engage our enemy tonight?"

Ripping off the delicate girdle, Chiyo cast it away as she had done her footwear. "Just get me out of this dress! I won't go on like this." She began to paw at the tight cords of her clothing. "Varric, give me a knife."

"Seeker, everyone thought you looked so splendid in that uniform we decided to let you and Curly be the only models." The dwarf grinned spiritedly, opening his vest to reveal his startling cache of throwing knives. "It would be my pleasure, your Inquisitorialness."

"Don't get me started on Commander Cullen; the man couldn't even size himself properly. He looks obscene in those pants." The Seeker stepped between the elf and dwarf, knocking a blade from Varric's hand. "Ugh! And you are not going to cut yourself out of it! What will you wear when we have to go back?"

Chiyo's head swam with rage and lack of air. "I would rather save the Empress in my underwear than fight once more in this horrible shem garbage!"

Cassandra hastily began pulling at the corset back. "This is my cousin's wedding all over again!"

"Why?" Chiyo queried, taking in the sweetest breath she had ever tasted as her ribs were freed. "Do human weddings typically involve murderous plots and hostile takeovers?"

"When your extended family is as affluent as mine a gathering isn't complete without at least one death, a few affairs and a duel over who drove the most expensive horses." Cassandra mentioned while she pulled the garment over Chiyo's head. Knee-length knickers and a restrictive chest wrap had never felt so much like heaven to the thankful elf.

"Now that sounds like the inspiration I need for my next book." Pondered Varric as Cassandra stashed the abandoned gown, "Perhaps you'd mind telling me the finer details, Cassandra."

Taking up the decorative sword she'd been allowed to wear, the lady Seeker took no delay in moving ahead. They still hadn't figured out who had been ordering the attacks on the servants. "Another time, but who's wedding are you writing?"

"I can't tell you that! It will ruin it for you." Varric toyed and followed her towards the private apartments.

"Fine! Then I won't tell you about having to hand out shields to the bridesmaids." She threatened.

"Here," Solas shrugged out of his long black coat and offered it to the Inquisitor. "Since you already seem to be in the habit of stealing my clothes." Heat rushed to his face as two pairs of eyes swung back at him. The higher set appeared intrigued and vaguely disgusted. The lower's were joined by a cat-swallowed-the-canary grin.

Varric pried unashamedly. "So this is a regular habit, eh? Apostates aren't really my type, but I'm not here to judge."

"This is not the time for such uncouth discussions." Solas warned, forcing in vain the implications from his mind. In his rush to escape embarrassment he'd missed the sly wink Chiyo had returned to Varric.

* * *

><p>"I have knowledge which falls… beyond the realm of most mages."<p>

Solas did not care for the woman familiarizing herself to the Inquisitor. She understood both too much and too little of the arcane knowledge she claimed with her dripping words to have dominion over. It was a dangerous mixture teeming with unspeakable risk. What was worse was her obligatory entry into the Inquisition. Though Chiyo had never rejected a new recruit from any background it was hard to swallow her acceptance of Morrigan. But with the rift in the sky still a looming threat it would also be foolish to disregard her entirely. Solas knew her offer to help came at a price no one could foresee.

In passing on the balcony's threshold, he could feel the tension rise between them as they sized one another up. Solas remained unmoved by her subtle, arrogant display. Enough blood had been spilled and violence come to pass for one evening. Morrigan could be dealt with back at Skyhold. He turned his focus to the slouching Inquisitor; her head hung low but with relief or sorrow he did not know.

He joined her at the railing, taking in the fresh night air. The release of her stress was palpable as she leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder. "I'm not surprised to find you out here. Thoughts?"

"We achieved all _our_ goals," she rubbed at a headache forming behind her tired eyes. "I thought I'd take a moment to enjoy the peace. Suddenly everyone wants to talk to me, but I've had enough of their company. I don't feel like playing the Herald anymore tonight."

The uncertainty in her words troubled him. "You don't need me to tell you this, but consider all the positive changes that could come from these events. You've changed history and have the entire Orlesian court wrapped around your finger. The Empress is in your personal debt."

She scoffed at the suggestion. "I can't imagine everyone here tonight is very pleased about what's happened. Think of all the horrible stories that will reach Skyhold after this… Being here was bad enough, but soon half of Thedas will hear of the Dalish mage that ruined the grand ball."

"At least you gave them plenty to talk about amongst themselves. Your arrest of Lady Florianne was rather spectacular," Solas recalled. "Storming the ballroom in such state was enough of a surprise, shoeless and half-dressed. Was the electrical display necessary, however? I saw at least one woman faint. News of your little rebellion most certainly will not die down overnight."

"I was going for 'feared Herald of Andraste- the woman who doesn't give a damn' I guess it didn't come across well," Chiyo sighed. "My anger got the best of me. I shouldn't have acted out like that. The dance she and I shared earlier had been outrageous enough." The Inquisitor stiffened beside him, fighting her own anger. "It's more than that though… I worry that my own feelings may have clouded my decision about Briala. If we hadn't saved Celene then I could have stolen back more power for my people. Briala cares about the elves but one council seat alone isn't going to undo the inequality of thousands. I just didn't want that power to be purchased by idly allowing a preventable murder."

Solas firmly took her by the chin and turned her gaze from the world below. "You should never mistake your mercy for weakness. It is a priceless gift. Our hands are already stained with enough blood. Making Briala the de facto ruler behind a gutted emperor would have been risky. What would there be to stop Gaspard from killing her once we have left and he'd grown tired of her policies?"

So proud and at odds with herself, the little Lavellan's eyes swam with her emotions. Too many paths to tread and outcomes to consider for one evening, if ever. They could hear the orchestra winding down for a final song after a long night of upheaval and celebration. "Come, before the band stops playing, dance with me." Solas requested as he stepped back and opened the invitation with a courteous bow. "And is there any hope of you returning my coat?"

"Not a chance."

Ah, there is was, the smile he knew that couldn't be extinguished for long. Solas' heart sang as she took his hand, allowing herself to be drawn in. "You've seen my dancing, I wouldn't risk it." She warned, gliding into the first steps. For the first time, she didn't feel the need to stare at her feet to get the steps right.

"I've had the pleasure of seeing you dance twice now. It is worth endangering my toes." He spoke warmly into her ear as they moved within a world of their own. For the night he would abandon his fear of falling too far into his own desires. She needed him too momentously after her trials. Solas could no longer to pretend to be as cold and distant as the high rises of a palace built on lies and masks before a heart that had been worn tender and raw by the callousness of others.

"My curiosity to experience it for myself has grown too fierce, I'm afraid."

"Then I shall do my best to satisfy your interest."

* * *

><p>Okay, so I had originally wanted to write out the whole "Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts" quest in Solas' perspective but as I tried it just felt… like I was being an ass. I'm already spoiling so much of this game and stuffing it with my own personal headcanons that it seemed wrong to potentially ruin a really good quest line for someone who hasn't gotten to play out all the different scenarios there. I know most, if not all of everyone reading has completed the game but it didn't seem very fair to rub a less experienced players face in it, potentially changing how they would decide on events. Probably won't be so nice about the next one… because, reasons…<p>

*ar tu na'din- I will kill you


	6. Friend in Need

"I should have kissed him." Chiyo decide, rolling out of bed. Rubbing at her groggy eyes didn't make them feel any less sore.

She couldn't help but replay the tender ending to their chaotic evening in Oralis, over and over, hoping to find better resolution. If only it had concluded more amorously than an unfortunate interruption from Commander Cullen, stumbling out onto the balcony in a vain attempt to evade unrequited Orlesian _hospitalities_.

She'd continue reserving her feelings as best she could. It would be unkind of her to push Solas further than he felt comfortable, but the wait for his response was near torment.

The moment they had shared in the Fade seemed like it had happened ages ago. It was only the incredible heat behind his actions, scorched forever to her memory, which kept her from considering it a mere fantasy. Dreams did not pull you off balance and take your breath away. They did not have pulses that pounded alongside your own or warm bodies to collide against. Nor did they leave you shaking, the sensations clinging to your skin as you woke, making you question the concept of reality to what transpires in the Fade.

What would a real kiss be like in comparison, one that he couldn't wake her up from?

Another night, the third in a row, had been claimed by her roving thoughts and left the Inquisitor to brood over them through the late hours till sheer exhaustion finally stole her away. It was early now; the unhindered sun had just begun to pierce through the high windows. If she hurried there would plenty of time to sneak a quick breakfast and tend to the herbs in the newly finished garden before the other members of Skyhold's society could disrupt the quiet harmony. Chiyo stripped out of the heavy tunic she'd worn to bed and exchanged it for a favored wooly-knit pullover, her preferred ward of the chilly mountain mornings.

She eyed the now infamous borrowed coat while jumping into her breeches. It had remained folded on the desk for days, a pleasant memento to an evening that didn't go as planned. Chiyo had half-hoped that Solas might have come for it, but it seemed she would have to do the returning. She refused to wait endlessly, or hang to every creak on the stair with baited breath in hopes of a fancied whim being granted. No one had come up to Chiyo's room since she returned from the Winter Palace, and she suspected that company would not be inviting themselves any time soon.

The Inquisitor enjoyed the location of her quarters for the reprieve it gave when the world seemed too weighty and fragmented. But the peace was paid for with loneliness. Few dared make the trip up the broken stairs and through the scaffolding to visit her besides the tender spirit, Cole. She had found him a few times wandering about the space, tracing his fingers over the lead latticed glass or rearranging her desk of trinkets, remarking in his cryptic speech on why she had kept the useless clutter.

Once, she had shivered at his soul-seeing exactitude when he had slipped a tarnished silver bracelet onto her wrist, his musings reflecting long dead wishes from her past.

"Just one, but there are so many. I would have kept it safe for her but I cannot find them anywhere. Their eyes go empty when I ask; the face is almost gone now too."

Chiyo told him that she didn't dwell on such memories anymore, that she no longer yearned after her mother's lost jewelry as she had as a child. In her youth she may have found comfort in having anything that belonged to her absent parent but she had grown beyond the notion now.

Laying the coat over her arm, she fiddled with a few delightful items for a moment before settling on a glossy red feather she had found while exploring the coastlands to the North. She brushed the smooth edge across her lip, enjoying the tactile pleasure before slipping it into a pocket of the dark garment. A small gift. A tiny wish. A mere sliver of affection. Certainly her fondness hadn't gone unnoticed or been ill received. But seeing behind the careful mask Solas wore was anything but easy.

"Maybe he wanted to kiss me to…it was such a lovely dance." she mused before descending the twisting stair. The Inquisitor crossed the empty hall and stopped at the door that would open up the ground floor of the rotunda. She hoped to discover him absent as she had previously, or even in the rare occurrence of finding him asleep on the sofa, lost in the Fade. It had only happened once before, but Chiyo treasured the memory of the pleasing gentleness that had taken over his customarily reticent demeanor. Her silent feet had spared her the embarrassment of waking him that time, allowing her to step near enough as she dared, but she'd never considered herself terribly lucky.

Chiyo began to reach for the handle. "Inquisitor?" Startled, she spun on her heels to find a tired looking apostate holding a steaming mug.

"Did you need something?" Solas inquired.

"And I thought I was quiet." she exhaled the short panic, trading it for bashfulness as she remembered her purpose. "I just wanted to drop this by." Chiyo gestured to the formal coat. "Before Vivienne gets her hands on it to deconstruct, she kept asking me about the construction of the seams yesterday. I guess several young ladies are requesting new designs from her, they think the costume change was intended! Perhaps we will be seeing an uprising of women in coats and trousers at the next ball."

"Madame de Fer must be exceptionally proud." Solas opened the door for her. "But since you are present, would you talk with me a moment?" Chiyo followed him into the rotunda, looking to the walls as she entered. She could smell the fresh paint and plaster. It seemed that he had found sudden inspiration during the evening as the makings of his latest installment now occupied another space. He'd chosen a lovely shade of blue to fill in the extended figure of Empress Celene.

She placed the coat on the back of his chair, still staring at the rough outlines. "Looks like you spent as much time sleeping last night as I did."

Solas glanced at his painting as he attempted to sip the tea he'd made. Horrible stuff, but stimulating.

The Inquisitor turned to see him wrinkle is nose. "What's this, a change of heart?"

"I need it effects; normally I do not enjoy how it keeps me awake. But this morning I need to shake the dreams from my mind." He set the partially empty cup aside, "I may also need a favor."

Chiyo did not hesitate; the solemnness in his voice alone had her on edge. "You only have to ask."

"One of my oldest friends has been captured by mages, forced into slavery. I heard the cry for help as I slept." Solas began, the urge to act and move returned but he had no patience for his artwork now. The dream had been so desperate and jarring, drawing Solas across the Fade in nauseating jumps in order to show him what was happening. He had witnessed flagrant cruelty, an appalling binding ritual, but he was powerless to aid the gentle being who begged for assistance.

"Your friend," Chiyo's head tilted as she asked, Solas had never mentioned any of his former companions. "He… she?"

"It." Solas corrected. "My friend is a spirit of wisdom who was quite happy to remain in the Fade, unlike most spirits—clamoring to enter this world."

"If your friend didn't wish to come here then how did it get across? You don't mean to tell me…" Her voice faded as the implications fell into place. She had only in recent months been able to study magic and practices essentially unknown to her clan. She had perused multiple texts in relevance to spirits and demons in hopes of leaning more about them. The books had given her plenty of warning against attempting a summoning of either kind. She could not imagine the desperation or insanity of those who would attempt such a ritual, especially during such trying times as they were.

"It was summoned against its will, and wants my help to regain its freedom and return to the Fade." The Inquisitor could hear the anger swell deeply underneath his words. "My friend is an explorer, seeking lost wisdom and reflecting on it. It would happily discuss philosophy with you but it had no wish to come here physically."

"Why do the mages want your friend so badly that they would summon it? Is this a very powerful spirit?" To Chiyo, this friend sounded much the kindred soul to the Fade wanderer before her. It was no surprise that Solas would be so protective over something that shared his deepest passions.

"No, but all spirits are susceptible to corruption. It knows a great deal of lore and history, but a mage could learn that simply by speaking to it in the Fade. It is possible that they seek information is does not wish to give and intend to torture it." Solas stopped his riled pacing and watched Chiyo, his eyes filled with urgency. He was determined to go, with or without her; he could not sit idly by as one of his dearest friend's suffered so greatly. "Will you aid me?"

There was no need to make up her mind. Solas would never ask for anything without utmost need. She was determined to help and her resolve would not waiver once given. "Just tell me what to do. I will support you anyway I can."

Relief washed over him. "Thank you, I got a sense of my friend's location before I awoke. We must ready ourselves for the Exalted Plains. I'm afraid this is going to be another hard journey through a very troubled land."

* * *

><p>If the Inquisitor could describe the Dales with only a single word it would be- nightmare. Death and turbulence permeated the air, soaked deep into the earth and poisoned the hearts of all who dared dwell there. Cole seemed utterly beside himself, surrounded by ceaseless suffering. Each night that they made camp he would stare out into the desolate land from whatever perch he could find and listen as the waves of pain flowed endlessly about him. Dorian had also been struck low. He was no stranger to death and the manipulation of those who had passed on, but the undead hordes laying such waste had exhausted his normally jovial mood. Chiyo would have spared her dearest friend's but their talents could not be overlooked. Their knowledge and individual backgrounds were invaluable to the mission at hand.<p>

She wished her brief encounter with the traveling Dalish they had crossed had been more amiable, though she was accustomed to being a pariah in their eyes. She was the strange child who had walked away from a fraught clan that had no use for her untamed magic. Chiyo the outsider, a mage who had only become the next First for the Lavellan's after the disastrous loss of Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel's original apprentice. Chiyo had long believed her presence the catalyst, in part at least, for both clans' internal unrest and civil disagreement. Life had seemed peaceful enough for both until she arrived, accepted but not entirely welcome.

And now she was the proclaimed Herald of a Maker the elves did not believe in. What further insult and distrust could she tally against herself as far as her people were concerned.

The Inquisitor had long ago accepted her role in elven society—she didn't truly have one. Just as the travelers of the Dales they were trying to help kept her at length and observed her with suspicion so had her mother's small clan after she proved her magical talents. The Lavellan's had at least given her the opportunity to learn and become useful in her own right. Keeper Hawen's skepticism had been expected but young Loranil's offer to recruit himself had taken her by surprise. Telling him no had been out of the question, but convincing his clan to relinquish him would take time.

Solas' earnestness prevented them from lingering too long and his distress had only grown as the spirit's calling to him each night grew faint and fragile, and then stopped all together. Helplessness did not sit well with the quiet apostate; it left room for anger to seep in, to augment his rationale and Solas could afford neither. The fate of such a priceless voice of reason was too precarious to lose himself in the wanton emotion that threatened to overtake his mind.

Yet there was another voice that could beckon him back from his despondency.

"I'll take watch." Chiyo had just returned from a short patrol. She touched his stiff shoulder, drawing him from his trance on the dying firelight. "Go get some rest."

"I don't believe I could sleep, it would be a fruitless effort." They were getting close; Solas recognized more and more of the area but searching in the dark could only yield scarce results. Dawn would come in a few hours, and he hoped it would be soon enough.

She added another log to the fire before settling down on the ground, her back to the rocky bluffs and eyes to the silent landscape. All seemed calm for the first time since their arrival. Destroying the hellish pits within the ramparts had been an exhausting but worthwhile mission. They had seen few abominations rise again after setting the cleansing blaze. "Your friend must be very important to you. Have you known them long?"

"A very long time indeed," Solas watched the flames lick their way across the fresh wood, consuming it greedily. "For almost as long as I care to remember. They were one of the first spirits I found in the Fade and the truest of friends. I have received more guidance from this gentle creature than any other."

Chiyo wanted to keep him talking, to ease his mind as he had done for her on so many occasions. "You don't say much, Solas, about your past. Is it too painful to mention?"

"You might say that, but I chose to leave many things behind to pursue my studies. Whether it hurt or continues to hurt is irrelevant now." Solas was on the verge of curtness but he was taken aback by her singular, harsh laugh.

"Sounds like my attitude when I entered the apprenticeship. Don't tell me it was your snot-nosed cousins who drove you into the Fade." Chiyo fell into a short silence interrupted only by the soft crackling of wood. Her thoughts wandered over the pains of her past, her own relatively detached existence. How much deeper were the wounds he would never show to her own, what pains had bought his silence?

"About what was said, during that night in the Hinterlands..."

Solas' blood ran cold, his heart clenched deep within his chest. It couldn't be that she had solved his little riddle and unraveled his history. He'd been so careful, so very careful besides the night she shouldn't have lived through, let alone remembered. What web could he weave to conceal himself once more, how would he justify running away at the most ominous of times.

"It's bothered me for a while now, but I thought you might help me understand it-"

His mind whirled; he could barely hear her words over his own dread. If he could deny it long enough to escape, maybe there was still a chance to disappear again before word reached the Inquisition.

"Something always felt a little off, no matter how I tried to explain it away."

He could head west, just as he had always planned to do. It would be easier now that they had traveled so far. Who would be able to track him through the turmoil? It would be weeks before anyone could find a trail and he knew how to leave few tracks if he wasn't rushed.

"- I guess I've just been lying to myself for so long. Convinced it wasn't true."

Lie to her, lie to her, lie to her!- "I can explain."

"Explain what? You can tell me why I lied about feeling magic for the first time?" Chiyo looked puzzled; she'd barely finished mentioning how she had attempted to cast spells, how she had felt the natural urge but was numb to her own connection to the Fade.

_Her_ story. Chiyo wasn't discussing his tale at all. He was safe for the time being. Solas felt the air return to his lungs as he skillfully transitioned into his own considerations, though he kept his original suspicions of blood magic to himself. Perhaps she had frightened herself with magic at too young an age, mentally blocking future attempts until the need was grave. Or she could have just been a slow bloomer in a clan who had lost too much of its power to provide her with the correct development. But as he spoke he observed as she closed in around herself, pulling her knees towards her chest, hiding her face against her shoulder.

"We weren't always so deficient. My mother was Keeper before... before..." she would not finish the thought. "If only her apprentice had completed training, then I might've stayed."

An old wound still tenderly hidden behind the smiles. A deep crack underneath a heart of gold. "I'm sorry that she didn't get to see the person you grew up to be."

The Inquisitor sighed, long and low, before rising to excuse herself for bed. "I should be the one apologizing. Here I am, trying to help you feel better and all I can do is make things about myself. For as many times as I have had to uproot though, I have always found friends. I feel so surrounded by them now, by good friends, great ones even. But when I look at you... I see someone who needs to have that more than I ever did."

"I wouldn't spend an excess of your time on me," Solas pressed his hands between his knees; the urge to reach out to her, to stave his need for companionship was immense. But the Inquisitor had already offered more than he dared accept. Certainly the weight of his heart would be too much for her to carry; he would not punish her with it for her freely given affections. "I have grown used to my conditions."

She paused behind him, feeling her words and hoping they would sound true if she tried them.

"You will never be a waste to me, Solas. Don't be afraid to leave behind what no longer suits you."

**Don't** smile. Ask her to _stay_. **Don't** think. Tell her _everything_. **Don't** move. Just this _once_. **Don't** dare!

"Good night, Inquisitor."

* * *

><p>Fun Fact!<p>

"Chiyo"- 1000 worlds/ generations

I named my Lavellan after Fukada Chiyo-ni, one of my favorite haiku writers who explored the unity between man and nature in the 1700's.

Further more, 30 follows!? It's just, wow, I am really honored that people would take the time to keep reading this. I really hope all my headcanon doesn't destroy, you know, everything?

Thanks for sticking with me this far. :)

-Erika


	7. Lost Light

"This wasn't the work of ordinary men." Dorian nudged at the hideous corpse on the side of the road with the toe of his boot. The lack of skin, the snapped limbs and twisted pose were enough to make even an iron-cast stomach turn. The poor fool would have been lucky to have died before the receiving the brunt of the many visible injuries. "Still pretty fresh though."

For once, Chiyo was glad to have been too rushed to eat breakfast. The trail of bodies they had stumbled across was becoming more disconcerting by the minute. She fought the urge to gag as they moved past the newest find. "Something is wrong here."

In the distance, they heard a guttural bellow, followed by an indistinct scream. The Inquisitor could feel tremors rippling through the earth beneath her wrapped feet.

"Horribly wrong." Solas tightened the grip on his staff before bolting ahead; he could waste no more time. Chiyo and the others followed him up the rocky path, heading higher into the broken hillsides. The shouting became louder as they went, acting as a startling guide. It wasn't long before they spotted a gigantic figure, hunched over in pain as it struggled to escape the confines of a magical barrier. Too many eyes flicked irately over the tiny, human mages that tried to hold the Pride demon back as one dragged away a fallen comrade from the edge of a pillared circle. Blood trickled from gargantuan claws and the hostile creature howled once more. Solas motioned a full halt to the others as they neared.

"This looks like no friend of ours. There is little left for us here..." Dorian caught Cole by the arm, preventing the youth from dashing ahead in his hastened urge to help.

"That is not its natural form, it's been corrupted." Solas went numb with deeply stirring rage obliterating his senses. His steely eyes narrowed with grief, assessing his tormented friend. "Forced to act against its original purpose. What did they do!" The apostate's fingers flared white as icy crystals escaped his control. He could feel himself turn cold as a portly, sapped looking fellow approached, holding up his hands in warning.

The Inquisitor tried to be tactful in advance of the situation falling to violence. The tension in the air was already palpable. "Let's try to find out what's going on. Give them a chance to explain." Chiyo had long assumed that Solas was fairly capable of becoming enraged if pushed too far but seeing it manifest made her wary; it was always the quiet ones you had to look out for when they finally snapped. Instinct told her to run before she became a side casualty in the imminent eruption. Willpower alone rooted her to the spot—she would not abandon him, regardless of what brewed just below the normally composed surface.

Sweat ran down the man's face, dampening his thin moustache and dark hair to his pallid skin. "A mage! Several mages!" he cried out with relief. "You're not with the bandits? Do you have any lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted; we've been fighting that demon for days now." He gestured to the monster that was being forced down into a tight crouch against the rocky earth.

Solas' glare would have burnt holes straight through the unknown man. "You summoned that demon, except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time. You made it kill! You twisted it against its purpose." he spat, lips curling into a hardened snarl.

Cole whispered from behind the drooping rim of his hat. "Were there fangs to tear wide the flesh. Sinew and blood will feed the hate-" was all he managed before being softly hushed by the Inquisitor.

Startled by the swelling power and strange company the dubious mage tried to explain. "I-I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons, but after you help us, I can…"

His words snapped. Resentment sizzled off Solas' tongue. "We're not here to help you. I've had enough of your imprudent conversation already." He brandished his staff menacingly, driving the man backwards.

Taking a deep breath and bracing her resolve, Chiyo stepped between the two mages and cautiously angled Solas' weapon away with her open, marked palm. "Word of advice? I would hold off on explaining how demons work to my friend here."

"Listen to me," the snobbish man begged as he stumbling, bracing himself against the rock. "I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall circle—"

"Shut up." The biting words were enough to weaken the other mage's knees. He sunk to the ground haplessly. "You summoned it, to protect you from the bandits."

"I—yes…" The mage did not deny his desperate but reprehensible actions.

Pushing past the Inquisitor Solas continued to berate the fallen man. "You bound it to obedience, and then commanded it to kill. That's when it turned." The elf shook his head in indignation and loathing, trying to clear his mind, to think more effectively. "The summoning circle, we must break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon."

"Are you insane?" The Kirkwall mage felt all the remaining color drain from his face. The obviously disturbed man before him clearly did not comprehend the first thing about demons. He couldn't fathom what an apostate could know to rival his own loftier understanding. "Even you must grasp that the binding is the only thing keeping the demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, this spirit of wisdom so you say, it is a monster now!"

Solas turned, looking dejectedly to Chiyo. He could bear the fool cringing at his feet no more. "Inquisitor, please."

She had already thrown aside her travel pack. Chiyo was prepared to give her all, even though she was frightened of the task at hand. Fighting demons she could handle, she'd been forced into doing it on countless occasions, but saving one was an entirely foreign matter. "I'll do everything I can to spare your friend."

"Thank you." The demon before them caught new wind, struggling once more to rid itself of its captors who were already at their breaking point. They fled for their lives as the horrendous beast broke their restraints, screeching to the heavens above in wrath and misery. "We must hurry!" directed Solas, time and control of the situation slipping irrepressibly through his fingers.

"Do we even have a plan?" Dorian asked in exasperation, throwing up the first protective barrier as they charged ahead, weapons drawn.

"Keep the demon distracted but do not engage unless we have no other choice!" Solas cautioned and pointed to the first summoning stone. "If we can break all of those the spirit will be released."

"Cole!" Chiyo called out, but the silent rogue had already slipped from their side, appearing next at the feet of the demon. Ducking, weaving and dropping small traps, he moved effortlessly to keep the creature off balance and focused on him to give his companions the chance to work unhindered. The mages fanned out, taking separate pillars to strike at with their sturdiest attacks. Dorian's fire cracked the hardened stacks in dazzling bursts. Solas channeled considerable energy through the Fade, shattering his first pillar with hurdling stones.

The Inquisitor chose her strongest trait, directing the power of a fierce storm to break down the furthest column. As each section of the spell was devastated the large demon gained more control of itself, fighting harder and with savage speed. Long lines of magical energy grew from its palms, becoming fearsome weapons. Cole placed several arrows into the horror's arms and extinguished a few of the beady eyes. But as a fourth portion fell the shadowy boy found himself on the cusp of being overtaken, faltering as the ground beneath his feet was set alight by electrifying strokes. His muteness remained unbroken even as his leg became briefly ensnared by the recoiling whiplash.

Chiyo watched in horror as her friend was sent reeling backwards, losing his footing and favorite hat as he tumbled to escape the next blow. He looked so small, a mere crumpled heap at the edge of the circle, struggling to right himself with a towering monster lunging his way.

'Not good! Get up!' Chiyo's panicked thoughts raced as she abandoned her task. She had to reach Cole, and she had to do it now. Her wish was granted as she leapt forward. Time itself grew sluggish, each thrumming pulse the only sound ringing in her long ears longer and slower than the last as the world around her blurred. Chiyo's focus was aimed entirely at her ailing friend. A fraction of a second, an eternity, she couldn't distinguish until time lurched ahead as she slid across the rocky soil, mere inches ahead of the fallen young man. She cast a shield of thick ice just as the demon tried to slam into the both of them. Stunned by its own impact, it gave the Herald the precious seconds she needed to rescue Cole.

"Did you teach her that?" Solas shouted, baffled by the Inquisitor's sudden transportation. One moment she had been reaching out, mid-stride and vanished within a dizzying blur only to be at the rogue's side on the opposite end of the circle. Less than a blink of the eye—as true a Fade step if he'd ever seen one.

Dorian directed his concentration to the last part of the binding spell. He'd never attempted such a feat as what they'd just witnessed though he easily recognized the magic. "Funny, I was about to ask the same of you!" He gave another mighty effort, shattering the final pillar with a ferocious blow from his staff.

The shock of the summoning circle breaking caused the demon to collapse, disintegrating as mournful howls echoed through the air. The decomposing mass swirled and contracted, leaving behind a much smaller, ghostly figure in its place. The spirit took the form of a human woman, haunted and exhausted, vacant eyes looking out into the listless sky.

Solas set aside his weapon; filling with regret as his friend fought to maintain their spiritual body, flickering in the wind. The elf approached the corrupted entity, kneeling before them so they could be close enough to speak softly. He did not want to add to the grievous strain that already threatened the thoughtful spirit. The sorrow in his eyes was telling, however, he'd come too late after all.

"I'm sorry." The words fell from his lips like heavy stones.

The spirit of wisdom disagreed. "I'm not. I'm happy. I'm me again." It spoke simply as their energy fluctuated.

"I could have done more for you. You didn't deserve this, old friend." Solas knew how little there was to be done. Once corrupted it was impossible to return to the Fade as it once had been. Though a spirit could not die it would never return as the same being it had previously resembled. It may remember its former existence or start anew depending on its strength of will.

"You helped me. Now you must endure." Before their light failed the spirit leaned forward, blank gaze falling onto the Inquisitor, watching as she tended to the other spirit in his stolen body. They whispered briefly to Solas, almost inaudible as they gave him a last counsel.

"Guide me into death." The spirit requested, ready to leave the painful world they'd been forced to suffer.

Solas tucked the words away for later examination. He must complete what they'd come so far to accomplish. Lingering would only warrant more pain for his dear companion. "As you say. Dareth shiral." With that he released her to the Fade, breaking the spell that had been woven around the spirit. He stood again as the remains dissolved into nothingness. A soft light floated away, fleeing from tormented flesh. It grew dimmer and vanished altogether. Solas gathered his belongings and turned his attention to Chiyo.

"I heard what it said. It was right." She said as he drew near. Her sympathetic gaze reached his eyes but couldn't permeate his sore heart. "You did help it."

"Now I must endure." Solas declined to openly mourn; it wasn't the time or place to relieve his emotions. There were other matters to meet with first.

"Let me know if I can help you." The Inquisitor offered, rotating to see the guilty mages approach the now empty battlefield.

"You already have." Solas' anger rose once more as the repulsive cowards dared come near. "All that remains now is them." Malice dripped from each word as he shouldered his staff. He wouldn't be needing it, not this time. His hands would do well enough.

"Cole, let me see your leg, please." The Inquisitor slowly peeled away the ruined fabric that hung in tatters off Cole's knee and shin. Dorian set her travel pack beside her and turned a blind eye from the brewing storm that was Solas and the Kirkwall mages.

"He will kill them." Cole did not resist her, his exclusive concentration was the brooding apostate who rejected the thanks of the frightened travelers and cursed them for their wrong-doings. There would be vengeance in the name of his gentle friend.

Chiyo's voice turned low and flat, almost void of feeling as she disregarded the rising fright. "It is not our debt to claim." She began to bandage his damaged leg. Cole showed no sign of pain, instead he asked why Solas would be so concerned about the speed of a single arrow. There were no archers in the sky that Cole could see, but the wise friend had warned the mage nevertheless.

"We didn't know it was just a spirit!" The far-traveled mages cried, their voices pleading for forgiveness. "The book said it could help us."

The party remained unmoved as the guilty were dispatched with merciless swiftness. Silent bodies hit the ground and remained still, their lives snuffed in a flash. Their fate had been sealed the moment they bound the spirit to do their dirty work.

"I need some time alone." Solas sounded hollow; his emotion's frayed beyond appeasement. "I will meet you back at Skyhold." Carrying only his meager possessions Solas left the group, heading for the solitude of the distant forest. There was much to think about now and a good deal to mourn. He only looked ahead as the Inquisitor requested he be careful and to stay safe.

"Wisdom knows enduring is pain." murmured Cole, he didn't not watch the mage take his leave. Instead he combed the rough grass with his fingers. "He hurts for her, another of many he couldn't save. He carries necessary deaths."

"We know, Cole." Chiyo pulled the young man into a loose hug, mostly for her own comfort, but the spirit was willing to fulfil the need. "We know."

* * *

><p>The god Fen'Harel was asked by a village to kill a great beast. He came to the beast at dawn, and saw its strength, and knew it would slay him if he fought it. So instead, he shot an arrow up into the sky. The villagers asked Fen'Harel how he would save them, and he said to them, 'When did I say that I would save you?' And he left, and the great beast came into the village that night and killed the warriors, and the women, and the elders. It came to the children and opened its great maw, but then the arrow that Fen'Harel had loosed fell from the sky into the great beast's mouth, and killed it. The children of the village wept for their parents and elders, but still they made an offering to Fen'Harel of thanks, for he had done what the villagers had asked. He had killed the beast, with his cunning, and a <em>slow arrow<em> that the beast never noticed.—Codex

* * *

><p>I have to say, I haven't been as happy as I have been while writing this little piece of nonsense in literal years. I really don't want this story to end! But I must admit this is nearly the halfway point unless I somehow come up with an additional arc to add in here. Who's to say that won't happen? Maybe I'll explore a chapter or two of Chiyo's past, or Solas' before he destroyed everything. And we have to get to all the fluffy garbage that the game didn't satisfy. Ohhh, and the whole re-writing of game's ending… There is still so much to cover, mostly stuff I have been prepping for the last month because it is all speculation and made-up fantasy. I wish I could show you guys my notebook. Scary shit, really. Arrows and cross-references and egg-head doodles. So new projection is 15-20 chapters… Don't hold me to that though, I have no self-control anymore.<p>

Should be posting another chapter in a few days. Got some time off and guess how I am going to spend it? I am Dragon Age Trash, but aren't you too?


	8. Here to Stay

Two weeks.

Two weeks had passed since the Inquisitor had last seen Solas disappearing into the treacherous wilds of the Exalted Plains. She'd been deeply concerned for his wellbeing and reminded herself daily that he had survived well enough on his own, possibly for years—decades even. Solas had traveled to many dangerous places in his time before the Inquisition and didn't need their help. But it wasn't enough to stifle the gnawing worry that followed her back to Skyhold. It even crept into her uneasy dreams as she called out to him, hoping to reach Solas in the Fade.

Chiyo filled the stretched days with busyness. She checked in on Cole, making sure his leg was healing well and listened to his growing anxiety about ending up like the wise spirit they had tried to save. He didn't want to be susceptible to such abuses but continuing as a spirit, still impartial and segregated from his body meant remaining vulnerable. What did it mean to be human, did it mean being safe? He had asked but Chiyo warned him that human hearts were also far from faultless; they too could be easily distorted even by the person himself without the influence of evil.

The Inquisitor spent a few afternoons building a small rivalry with Commander Cullen over games of chess. She wasn't an amusing loser but the distraction did much for them both. The Templar's struggle with his lyrium addiction stole much of his energy and focus, but for a few quiet hours they could put aside their mantles, duties and worries. For another day they could feel grounded. The problems of the world could wait till after the well planned removal of a rook or completing a blockade of bishops.

More than one evening had been expended in the Herald's Rest, running into the wee hours of the morning, playing cards and refining her wicked grace skills with the Iron Bull, Sera and Varric. For losing hands it was mandatory to drink a hearty swig of ale, winners were required to down even more. There had even been an incident where the Inquisitor needed to be carried back into the castle over the dwarf's stout shoulder after a particularly grueling game. The slow trip to bed included an outrageously tuned rendition of the scandalous yet popular 'Sera Never Was'.

"Sera was never quite the wealthiest girl - Some say she lives in a tavern. But she was so sharp, and quick with bow - Arrows strike like a dragon."

But most of her time was given to the library, keeping a convenient eye on the door of Solas' room, studying various theories with Dorian. Answering his prodding questions about her magical training and development however was becoming tiring. Her abilities met his expectations but Dorian's assumptions about her education did come across as a tad condescending. Her Keeper had worked with her diligently for years to hone her spontaneous tendencies. Even if her magic was a bit clunky she had never considered herself truly inadequate.

Chiyo did not expect to be stopped in the courtyard the day after a rather heated debate with the northerner, and she certainly had not anticipated another, very serious mage to be with him. The Iron Lady herself had decided to approach Chiyo, though by the aloofness of her expressions and the expensive utility of her clothes the intent of her visit was preceded.

"Gossip around Skyhold is that you have been toying with dangerous magic." Her cold voice set the Herald's spine rigid. "Like a child playing with the kitchen stove."

Her lips pursed tightly, watching Dorian innocuously examine his fingernails. "You told her…" she rumbled crossly. Chiyo had purposefully requested that Vivienne not be informed of her accidental discovery until after she had a chance to master the new ability and evade further chastising.

"I only inquired about the precedence of what transpired that day." He answered, shifting a set of staves on his shoulder. "Madame de Fer's time with such a quality Circle certainly would have yielded experience with budding talents."

Vivienne held out one hand with deliberate poise, wrapping long, powerful fingers around the staff that Dorian presented to her. "I was hoping for a thorough demonstration, but I am concerned about your propensity to control that which you do not understand."

"So you're here to punish me? Should we bow first?" Chiyo asked, catching the simple weapon cast to her. Excitement began to course through her veins; it had been too long since her last duel. She could barely contain the mischievous grin that tugged at her mouth. Here was a chance to prove that mages could be competent outside of a smothering Circle. She squared off her with challenger, her back turned to the open gate and bridge.

Dorian was already ridding potential onlookers as the courtyard cleared; shouts of a brawl spreading like wildfire but no one wanted to be caught in the midst of an arcane battle.

"Punish you?" The Lady straightened the cuffs of her sleeves. "Heavens no, darling. But if you're lucky you will learn something. I wonder what it will take to get through that sweet head of yours." Before Chiyo could prepare Vivienne had already cast her first spell with fluid grace.

"Shit!" The Inquisitor threw up a hasty barrier before the frozen blast drove her several steps back. "What, no procedures. No ten paces before the draw?" she counteracted with an aggressive lightning strike that cracked through the dry air.

"You have yet to earn formalities. Those are reserved for the trained." The more experienced mage was already pooling considerable energy to power her next onslaughts. Each physical move just as defined and purposely placed as the last as she sent forth waves of fire.

The Inquisitor jumped, allowing the flames to blacken the soil where she'd been standing. "What do you think the Dalish have done with all our freedom? Enchanting animals to do parlor tricks? Turning crops strange colors to frighten farmers?" She slammed the end of her staff to the ground, turning the warm earth into an icy sheet, trying to freeze her opponent's feet to the ground.

"Your jokes are as coarse as your skills!" prodded the Enchanter. She laughed, dispelling the trap and casting a much better one, catching Chiyo and forcing her to waste precious energy in freeing herself. As she broke loose Chiyo shouted with alarm, countering a series of spirit blades, knocking them back in rapid succession. The Inquisitor took a chance to become more aggressive as Vivienne restored her barrier and drew in another wave of energy. "It is raw hide in comparison to mine. That fur will keep you warm and dry out there in wild but here it will never be enough. I wear my expertise like a fitted glove, a second skin."

In a dazzling, explosive maelstrom she charged, a powerful gale flowed forward and crashed into the Enchanter's patiently cast shield. She tried to force another Fade step, to get as close and personal for a finishing move as she could but the results were less than spectacular. More like a Fade trip by all accounts. She sprawled, her head screaming from the mental pressures of her harried attempt.

"This is exactly why I support formal training!" Vivienne placed her foot squarely on Chiyo's staff and sent her tumbling across the lawn with a mere flick of the wrist, magic followed her unremitting command. Weaponless, she dug her nails into the grass, trying to stop the movement before she slammed into the wall under the gate's archway. Chiyo pushed herself up off the ground, wiping a small amount of blood from her lip, smearing it across a sore cheek. Her focus never left the Enchanter, eyes and fingertips sparkled with surging energy. "Were I a real enemy that failure would have cost you your life."

"How many young mages do you think I have seen tear themselves apart even under strict guidance? And here you are—no teacher, no net to catch you if you fall, trying to make the nature of magic bend with your determination alone. It will break you!" The tall, elegant mage interrogated her, pinning Chiyo to the bricks with binding magic as she took her time walking forward. Soon they stood toe to toe, their caught gaze speaking volumes through the silence.

Vivienne rubbed the red stain from the face of the Herald as the tension finally dissipated. "Darling, I will teach you anything you want to learn. But please, I do not wish to bury a friend."

"Mages need to be free. I don't want to be caged." Chiyo sighed in defeat. Her ego was bruised worse than her body, but she understood the 'lesson'.

"They also deserve to be safe from themselves." The Enchanter broke her spell, keeping Chiyo steady for a moment to let her regain composure. "Find me when you are ready." She smiled sympathetically before leaving with Dorian; she'd had enough excitement for one day.

Chiyo stretched her sore muscles and brushed the dirt from her clothes. The crowd on the fringes of their dueling ring quickly dissipated, stunned by the show of force they'd witnessed. What a spectacle it must have been. She hoped they wouldn't think less of their precious Herald for getting into small spats with her Inner Circle.

"Inquisitor?" Chiyo would have recognized the voice anywhere. She forgot the sting of her lip and smiled glowingly. "You came back."

The apostate's eyes examined the disheveled Dalish elf head to toe. "As promised, but it seems I've returned at an interesting time. Is everything well?"

"It's much better now." Chiyo tried to rub the blood and dirt from her hands on the back of her pants. "But how are you, Solas?"

Sorrow quietly replaced the concern that lingered behind his features. "It hurts, it always does. But I will survive."

Chiyo's fingers stretched out and faltered back to her side, she did not know how well he would receive her comfort. "Where did you go, if I'm not intruding?"

"I walked the woods mostly, they give me great peace." He answered, folding his hands behind the small of his back. "Then I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I searched the place in the Fade where my friend used to frequent. I found it empty, but there were stirrings in the energy there. Something new may grow in its stead."

Chiyo was curious about his findings; she didn't claim to understand much about the natural state of spirits. "But they didn't die?"

Solas shook his head and escorted the Inquisitor up the curved stair to the keep. "Like all beings, their energy returns to the Fade. That energy may one day reform, but their personality will more than likely be altered and sadly they will probably not remember me. It will not be the friend I once knew so well."

The Inquisitor stopped him mid-climb; his pain was too audible to ignore. From the small rise, just a step ahead of him, she was nearly tall enough to look him in the eye. Once more she reached out to him, daring to rest her fingers against the curve of his arm, caressing the textured material that stretched over the firm muscle below. She stood in silence for a moment, listening as the wind ran between them in crisp rolls. "Next time you have to mourn, know that you don't have to be alone."

Solas stared at the bright soul before him, so uncommon and awe-inspiring, not even the developing bruise on her cheek or the dirt she was streaked with could distract him from the elation her presence brought. The word's escaped his heart and he did not regret saying them. "It's been so long since I could trust someone."

"I know." How many years had passed since he last felt safe or understood? Solas would have paid any price to have remained in that moment with her for eternity, but he would settle for what little time the world would spare them. Could she make up for all the empty years, for all the nights he starved for a love he didn't believe he deserved?

"Come," he said. "Let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

><p>Solas had never been to the Inquisitor's quarters in all their months at Skyhold. Under no circumstances would he have imposed on her space without explicit invitation, but even now it seemed like he was encroaching on very personal ground. The whole space spoke of her character and was brimming with little reminders of her adventures. Hodge-podges of documents and artifacts nested on various surfaces— letters and notes littered the table by the stair as if she'd been reading them again in her spare time.<p>

Each window supported a different variety of well-tended flora, some clung to the window panes as they grew, and others remained content under their glass bells. She'd covered the walls behind her bed, where he noted more than a few books to be caught amidst the unmade blankets, with pieces of vellum containing maps from the different places they had visited. There were schematics for new equipment—some labeled 'Varric' or 'Blackwall' or 'Talk to Dagna' in the Inquisitor's straggly penmanship. A few crude drawings and caricatures of the Inner Circle even made the wall, most of them signed by their own Red Jenny, repeatedly.

But the desk by the balcony intrigued him most. Many of the items he recognized from their travels through the Hinterlands and the Storm Coast. Someone had arranged an assortment of delicate glass halla figurines into an amusing herd, standing proudly among uncut aquamarines, freshwater pearls and fragments of serpentstone. Beneath a scrap of lustrously colored silk he spotted a small carving of a wolf. He held it between his thumb and finger, examining the proud profile of the animal resting on his haunches, waiting patiently for his next meal to stroll by. He stepped out onto the balcony, prepared to pitch the creature down the mountainside.

"It's a refreshing view, isn't it?" Chiyo called to him as she left her wardrobe. A fresh change of clothes had revitalized her mood. She held a cold, damp cloth to her cheek and rested against the heavy stone rail.

Solas discreetly slipped the item into his pocket, abandoning the disposal. "Can I ask you something?" he inquired as she joined him. Her quizzical appearance was answer enough. "What were you like before the anchor, before the rift?" Chiyo looked at her palm, considering her answer; she hadn't given the direction of her previous life much thought since joining the Inquisition.

"Has it affected you?" Solas clarified, he had considered her nature often since their trip to the Exalted Plains. He hoped she might be able to settle his curiosity and allow him to put aside a few precarious ideas the spirit of wisdom had seeded. "Changed you in any way, your mind, your morals… your spirit?"

The balm of her mild laugh soothed his nerves. "If it had, do you think I would have noticed? Honestly though, I feel like I am finding pieces of myself along the way. I am changed, but I am becoming more me and less the imposter I assumed to be."

"You show a wisdom I haven't seen since… " Solas leaned beside her on the high banister. "Since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade. You are not what I expected."

The Inquisitor looked to him, almost embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry if I've not met your anticipations. I haven't exactly been a storybook hero in this tale."

"It's not disappointing," Solas took the cloth from her hand, cleansing a missed blemish from her jaw. "Most people are predictable. But you… you show subtlety in your actions and strength in your words. A wisdom that goes against everything I expected. To think that the Dalish could have raised someone with a spirit like yours…" His hand lingered on her face and shivers ran up his arm when she placed her fingers atop his own.

"Did I misjudge them?" The elf's brow knit together as he recalled the many harsh words he'd spent in the drifters' regard.

"I would never hold up the Dalish as perfect. Honorable perhaps, but they are not free of flaws." She leaned into his indirect touch, the wet towel warming under her skin. "They will never give up their memories of the ancient ways, even if they don't always remember them appropriately."

"Perhaps that is it. I suppose it must be." Solas felt lighter and more at ease than he had in ages. "Most people act with so little understanding of the world."

"But not you." He let the fabric fall from his hand so that he could feel her unhindered; he brushed his thumb over the darkening cheekbone. It would be an impressive bruise by the morrow. So resilient and so striking this mortal, this dream made real.

"What does this mean, Solas?" her eyes reflected his own sentiments, a mirrored soul seeking to quell the callings of another.

"It means I have not forgotten the kiss." The memory never left him for long. He'd returned to that fantasy time after time, sifting through the guilt, the want and the thousand other emotions that commanded resolution. But they rose once more, eating away at his mind, forcing Solas to second guess himself all over again.

"Neither have I." Her heart plummeted as he unexpectedly pulled away, but the Inquisitor refused to let go of his hand. He halted, ready to walk through the door if she freed him.

"Don't go." An appeal, a promise, a chance for surrender. Solas knew if he left her then that he may never recover from the hurt that his rejection would bring between them. He didn't know if he was capable of the accountabilities that either choice demanded from him. Could he drag her into the disaster and mire of the path he walked or would he break the spirit of the only person who had not once cast him aside through all their trials?

"It would be kinder in the long run." He warned, beseeching to have the decision made for him. A reassuring squeeze around his hand was too much to disregard. Everything he tried to dissuade himself with shattered in that moment. There was no more running away, not from her.

"But losing you would…" he was already doomed. Too profoundly entangled in the pleasures and possibilities of what could be if he forsook his solitude. Her lips were a prayer he recited again and again, her arms redemption that pulled him deeper and the offer of her heart forgiveness no sum could ever hope to purchase. It was only the coppery taste of the wound on her mouth that drew him back; he would not hurt her with his need.

"Forgive me," he breathed, his hands making a last slow study of her form.

Lightheaded, near intoxication, the Inquisitor smiled and stole her goodbye, releasing him to do as he may. "Another time perhaps."

Solas paused in the doorway, wearing a joy he could not remove with might or magic. It was too late for the warning of his lost friend; he'd already been struck down by the lovely arrow.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan."

* * *

><p>Shhh, no words now. :)<p> 


	9. One Last Lullaby

Solas remained absolutely still, lingering in the shadow of their shared tent. It was barely dawn; the chill of the desert night had only just begun its ritual thaw and the first rays promised all their usual fire. Up before everyone else, the Inquisitor had slipped quietly from her bed once more as she had repeatedly the past several mornings. Curiosity drew the mage from his own rest, but he had not expected such robust efforts from Chiyo today.

For the first time in nearly a year since first being marked by the anchor she had shown signs of pain after closing a rift. The initial one hadn't been a problem even with the plethora of rage demons it presented, but the second tear they had found mere hours later had proven too great a strain. Exhausted, she had withdrawn from the company quite early, temporarily canceling their exploration of the oasis they had traveled so far to investigate. He would not have criticized her for sleeping in after so many rows with their demonic enemy but with vigor seemingly renewed Chiyo did not seem worse for wear.

In fact, she'd been faring much better over the past two months since his return to Skyhold. The Inquisitor's rigorous training with Vivienne was commendable. She'd come leagues under the new tutelage but Solas questioned if she was pushing her small body too hard. Certainly her accuracy and foresight had notably improved. The endurance of her barriers lengthened and her preference for the tempest that often boiled-over her control much more honed, brought to heel even on the best days. But Solas considered her change in movement most unbefitting. Solid, square, regimented and reaching for perfection, there was nothing wrong with her new form except that it wasn't _her_. These were not the natural motions of a person free and wild at heart. The grace of her arms was lost in the tight circles she dictated to twirl her staff. Each footfall stole its purchase rather than finding natural traction in the soft sand. To Solas, it seemed she was opposing her nature, and therein laid her growing frustration.

Solas could see it behind the concentration that cloaked her face as she worked through her intense exercises. A student desperate to reach the bar set just out of reach. She'd grown so much since they'd first met but viewing Chiyo like this only brought to mind a pupil's classic copy of a masterwork. Try as she might, she couldn't wholly erase her own flare and creativity while striving for an exact image. As he observed Solas wondered if she expected to reach her long-standing goal this morning. It wouldn't be long now until her next attempt, the Inquisitor was already eyeing her target.

Centered, focused, a deep breath—she flew! A correct fade step across the sand to a high perch on a boulder. She looked so proud and—too much, the pleased mage transformed into a woozy elf, releasing her weapon and struggling not to be sick. She slumped down the rock, holding her head and hiding her eyes from the rising day.

Qualms of a deeper flaw grew within the hedge mage. If it wasn't her form preventing her success then the issue must lay in her magic.

"Good morning." Solas announced placidly, brandishing a fresh water skin.

Chiyo groaned but accepted his offering, though she buried her face in the cool leather instead of taking a drink. "It is far from that."

"On the contrary," Solas stole a subdued smirk while she wasn't looking. "It was a much better attempt than yesterday and practically impeccable considering where you ended up last week."

She caught him with a begrudging pout. "I knew it, you _have_ been watching."

Solas joined her on the ground. "At least we didn't have to fetch you from that pool, though why you would attempt to cross water that way…" A previously unnoted addition to her person robbed his humor. Through the looseness of the simple clothes she practiced in he could see the secret price she'd been charged for her gains. Bruises in varying ages mottled portions of her skin, each marked a separate failure. "What is this?"

"Consequences are supposed to make it easier to get everything right the first time." Her eyes failed to meet him as he gradually slid the slack edge of her tunic further down her shoulder to reveal more damage.

"These are not recent." The small, fading yellow and brown marks that stippled her upper arm and chest would have been inflicted before they'd left for the desert. "Did she do this?"

"No." Chiyo pulled her garment up and gave her attention to drinking from the soft canteen. "You've seen firsthand how capable I am of inflicting damage to myself, unaided."

"Would you…" He desired to ease her struggle if he could; Chiyo's efforts seemed almost futile if she was incapable of amending her condition. Solas considered his words judiciously, arranging once more to follow the thin line he'd established for himself. "Indulge me for a moment? There is a theory I might hope to test."

"What kind of a theory?" Chiyo inquired, replacing the cork tightly. They were hours still from locating another water source and could not afford the waste.

"A remedial one." He answered before gently taking her unblemished hand, propping it upon his bent knee and tracing a slow spiral over the shallow depression of her palm. "All mages are connected to the Fade, it is the source of our magic. We are conduits of that energy. Channels as you already know."

The Inquisitor softened her eyes to the simple pleasure, watching the lone finger repeat its pattern continuously. Had she been born cat she may have purred. "You sound like my Keeper."

Solas sustained the motion, luring her into a calm trance with his careful spell. If would be a painless method if she didn't fight his intentions. "Then you have by now heard the principles of how those energies pool naturally within."

"Day one apprenticeship." The Inquisitor mocked genially. "Magic flows in and out endlessly in a loop. It enters from Beyond and passes through like air, stopping only to mingle within the well of ourselves and returning to whence it came. The more you expend that stored mana, like our need for breath, the faster it is drawn in once again to keep the pool full." Her words developed a leisurely tenor, the delights of her initial time spent training a warm memory.

"And what does it feel like to draw up from that well?" He paused patiently as her focus slipped, side stepping across the path of the present and reliving those early days of her formative years.

The lids of her eyes nearly touched as she settled further into the repose, leaning far forward in a slump. But her brows knit together with former frustration as she drove forth her reply. "Heavy and slow, like someone filled the bucket with rocks… and then too much, it's all coming up. You can let go but you'll drown if it can't find a way out…"

"Show me." Solas bid in a whisper, palm hovering over her own. He inclined to meet her, letting their foreheads press collectively. With closed eyes he waited, listening for the magic to resonate. Heat coursed between their hands, oscillating in thick waves until it formed a simple flame. It was all he needed, a modest trail to pursue as her energy slowly burned. Solas' magic slipped onward inconspicuously, following the channel as more joined him from the Fade. Together they continued until he felt the edges of her magic's source turn inward before spiraling down, wanton and constricted. Where there should have been an open basin Solas instead discovered a virtually inescapable rift, the combative pressures of a tight bottle-necking of the energy were the only obstacle that kept him from being drawn in too deep.

Just as new magic tried to refresh the well it crashed against the opposing force of the energy Chiyo was drawing from her reserve. Someone had tried to seal her, and they'd done a terrifyingly fine job at doing it. The Dalish didn't have the ability to make one another Tranquil like the Chanty had become fond of doing, but that left only darker magics to consider. But what had broken through such a powerful binding and released a magic strong enough to puncture the spell without destroying a mere elven child?

_Blood_.

She'd been covered in blood when she'd first used magic intentionally.

Solas carefully withdrew, extinguishing the flame. He would entice no more answers from her until he had further evidence. How she had found any balance at all midst the turmoil was beyond his reasoning but it certainly explained her struggles with advanced magic.

Chiyo rubbed at her eyes, apologizing for her unexpected drowsiness. She hadn't realized how tired she'd been.

Solas tucked away his thoughts for another time; she would be too quick to catch the change in his attitude if he dwelt on the ideas. She would tease him for being sullen and remark that such heavy thinking would permanently affix his brow in the knot that often accompanied his pensive complexion. The Inquisitor might ask him questions too tempting not to answer but how might she react if he told her? He refused inconvenience her with additional concern.

Instead he accepted a fluttery kiss to his temple and the promise of breakfast. It would be enough for now. Her happiness was too precious to dash. He could give her that much in return for all she'd gifted him.

If only he could keep her from the Forbidden Oasis till he was more confident of the situation, but Solas had already stalled as long as he could. The Temple of Pride would be her next judge and jury.

* * *

><p>"Oh wonderful, another shitty elf hovel. I knew this place had a certain stink to it." Sera wrinkled her short nose as the Inquisitor activated another ancient artifact, strengthening the Veil as they had done many times across Thedas.<p>

"This isn't a hovel." Chiyo corrected, returning to the first floor with the snippy rogue. "It's a temple."

"Why, because Baldie says it is? What is it temple of then if he's so smart. Temple of nug crap? Looks more like that giant's toilet." She leaned ostentatiously against the first door that bore no keyhole, just an inscription Solas had been working on. If only there had been more monsters guarding the entrance, then she might still be outside having fun instead of rotting away in a dank dungeon. "If it wasn't sealed with stupid magic then I could pick this stupid door!" Sera kicked the solid stone with her heel.

"We've already told you about this place, weren't you paying attention?" Tested Blackwall, waiting patiently with the box of mysterious shards he'd been given charge over. "Remember, you laughed for ten straight minutes. And door's get locked so brats like you don't wander off with everything valuable."

"Shove it, broody beard." The city elf made an obscene gesture with a raised fist that intersected her other horizontally held forearm.

Chiyo recited the lore once more, ignoring their asinine banter. "It's the Temple of Pride, once known as Solasan to the elves that roamed these deserts more than a thousand-"

"Ha! Solas—an, this is your shithole then, I knew it. Who else would have named such a weird place after themselves?" Sera squealed as she had the first time they'd said the name.

Solas had already placed a tight lid on his temper; the girl was obviously acting intentionally. "And I remember distinctly clarifying that it is a pure coincidence. How many 'Seras' have you crossed in your travels? The Elven language recycles and reuses just as many phrases as the one you speak currently."

"Blah blah, words and shite, blah blah." Sera threw up her hands, deprived of her game she wandering off to explore the lower level again. Perhaps she could have a go at the other doors and get them out of the creepy place sooner.

"Why did you bring her?" moaned Blackwall, watching the narrow elf disappear down the stair once more. "It's like she hates us for spite's sake alone."

"I don't think she's that bad. Sera's a good person, she just doesn't really know it." The Inquisitor defending her choice of companions. The blonde was quirky, aggressive and more than a little abrasive, but under all her attitude and _charm_ was a worthwhile friend. Sera cared deeply about the things that were important to her. No one could change her mind about damned near anything, especially if it pertained to the elves. "And besides, her destructiveness is better used here then back home."

The Grey Warden pulled at the tip of his beard, improving the wedge between the center split. "Did Cassandra threaten you? I did see her pulling you aside before we left Skyhold."

"What? No! Recommended… She recommended." Chiyo waved off the accusation.

Resuming his scholarly conquest the apostate held up the rubbing he'd made of the door to the veilfire torch. The words were scratched hurriedly, dragging across the stone as if they had been exhaustive to imprint. "Would anyone else like to hear what this door has to tell us?" He started quietly once he had their attention.

"Emma solas him var din'an. Tel garas solasan. Melana en athim las enaste."

"I think… I think I have it." Chiyo covered her eyes as she mouthed the words, doing her best with the new familiarity gained from her continued studies. "Arrogance became our… end. Come not—not to a prideful place. Now let…"

"Humility grant us favor." Solas assisted her translation. He had chosen to remain near mute as they'd explored the remains of the disregarded elven site. There was a lingering sadness here, a forgotten tragedy had unfolded and been lost to all knowledge. He would explore it in the evening when they had a chance to rest again and try to find out more about the author of the short inscription.

Opening the first door of Spirit had only strengthened his suspicions. Witnessing the horrors come to life after centuries of uninterrupted slumber had certainly unnerved his companions but it was the sight of a stone coffin that worried him most. This place was no longer just a temple. It had become a tomb as well. He held his breath as the Inquisitor dared to peer inside only to see little more than crumbling remains before being struck by a cluster of pure energy.

"You okay? That strange stuff went inside you." Sera paused, still fetching her used arrows. "Gross."

Chiyo looked herself over; she certainly didn't feel any different. Maybe a little stronger? But that could be the adrenaline from their battle. "Everything still seems in order."

"It would appear to be benevolent, perhaps a gift for your efforts against this enigma." Solas suggested as Chiyo considered the next door. She counted their remaining shards; they had enough to open the door adjoining the room they were in or they could go back and fiddle with the other two entrances. It might be possible to find more pieces nearby and return before they had to journey home. There had been four shards around the intrinsic pool alone, and several more oculara were within easy travel.

"Perhaps," said Chiyo holding up one of the small shards released from the tome like encasing they'd been originally discovered in. It shimmered, a thick piece of splintered glass catching the low light. "But who would have put together such a strange puzzle?"

'If only you knew, vhenan, if only you knew.' Solas kept the words to himself, letting the memories of an ancient dream he'd once had toy with his considerations.

* * *

><p>This was not the vision Solas had expected to find, not so close to the Temple of Pride but the whispers of the spirit that guided him overtook his intended search. In the place where his lost friend had often lingered called a new voice, shifting and breaking as it formed. To his surprise he found a being, who'd chosen the form of an elf, had claimed the reclusive station. It waited for him, standing tall upon the remains of a colossal fallen oak tree whose roots had been ripped from the ancient ground of the dreamscape. It lay in testament to all that had been lost in the death of the previous spirit.<p>

"So this is what you last saw." He supposed to the burgeoning spirit of wisdom, recognizing their energy. Their final vision before being released back into the Fade clearly still haunted them. He crossed his arms as he studied the unsettled form, fluctuating through a kaleidoscope of appearances and bodies. Dalish faces, the tattoos were immediately telling. The spirit returned to one face again and again, it was different but not entirely unfamiliar. "Tell me what troubles you, friend."

They descended from the massive trunk in a swirl of black, the last façade remaining, for now. A strong profile, a fine chin, sensible ears and long, snowy hair spun into loose knots. They might have been mistaken for the Inquisitor at a glance but further study would have noted the distinction.

"Come see." The voice wavered through a broken range and beckoned him to follow a narrow path into the woods. Solas obliged and trailed behind, unconcerned as the spirit vanished and reappeared between the thickening trees. They were still too new, too freshly formed to reenact more lifelike patterns. He was amazed to see them reformed at all. There must have been grave urgency his friend had tried to impart, more knowledge it wished to share before it was too late.

They continued for hours, passing several dreams of the wandering people of the north. He could hear the distant voices echoing through the deep night, the glow of ever distant veilfire that illuminated his serious guide was the only beacon. Solas conjectured about how old the memory he was being escorted to was; there were no markers to hint at the when, no buildings or roads, only dark forest. After an eternity the cold fire ahead finally drew near, burning a permanent ring on the edge of the event. The spirit slipped effortlessly through, taking solid form as they passed. They grew strong arms that bore a staff and legs with wrapped feet. From under the blackness came sturdy robes. A voice broke free, urgent and unwavering.

"You will not take her!"

Other figures surrounded the Dalish woman, young and old alike. Their long fingers pointed to the Keeper in anger as they made their case. Fear and mistrust thickened the air as they cried out to their leader. Their bodies rose, stretched garishly within the nightmare.

"She can't stay here, that child will kill us all! We only just escaped that fire she created."

"Demons! She calls them in her sleep and speaks their names!"

"Tasalli, the girl shall become an abomination for sure!" The mob began to push forward, driving the dismayed woman back.

The Keeper threw down her sacred wooden staff and held out her empty hands, trying to soothe her clan with goodwill. "Chiyo is my daughter! Flesh of my flesh. What would you have me do?" she pleaded, getting closer to the charred aravel she defended persistently.

Some demanded that she be left outside a city to be dealt with by the humans—there'd been rumor of men who could deal with dangerous young mages. Others insisted the child be left in the woods; to die from exposure or be eaten by the Trickster if such was her fate. A graven few pressed for immediate action; no heart would be lost over _removing_ the girl themselves.

"Give me time." Tassali stood firm, her face becoming hardened stone. The terrified clan wouldn't be allowed to reach her child. The distressed mage would fight them if given no other choice. "Please, I only ask for that."

"Till dawn." The elders converged and permitted in agreement. "Rid her by then, or we will."

Her clan turned a harsh back on the one they'd trusted above all others, her failure to control her child had spent much of their devotion. After they'd left she opened the door to her caravan, procuring a tiny girl just beyond the door. The Keeper fiercely held the wide-eyed little one to her shoulder. Here was the monster that stole the security of the wanderers. A small and innocent creature who'd seen no more than four winters. Her mother rocked as she wept.

Little fists wove through the mage's hair. "Mamae, I'm sorry. I'll be good this time." She joined in her mother's sorrow.

"Da'len… You've done nothing wrong." Tassali whispered, her words heavy with mourning. "I won't let them hurt you. They fear the stars that shine too brightly; it makes them question their fate."

The white-haired child sniffled into her mother's neck. "They're wrong Mamae, my friends aren't demons."

"Shhh. Let's go to bed now, there are dreams we must sing to." She hummed to her daughter a favored lullaby, the song echoed through the dream.

"Halla, Halla, guide me where the river runs free. Owl, wise Owl, show me the oldest, tallest tree. Bear, Bear, who stole my favorite hunting bow? Wolf, clever Wolf, spare me of your woe."

Solas watched as the memory went dark and all remained still for a time till a swift sunrise livened the scene once again, casting a harsh red glow. The clansmen pounded on the wooden door, demanding an answer. When only silence came they opened the aravel and watched in horror as their Keeper descended the short stair. She bore out her child, limp in her arms and marked with blood. Tassali was on the verge of succumbing to the corruption that radiated from her body, it had already claimed her sight, leaving her fractured and blind.

"Sister!" a woman wailed, the only elf who dared approach. She took the girl from her kin, struggling not to collapse from shock.

"Keeper, what have you done?" It was the young First who spoke, a man barely free from boyhood. Tassali stripped sylvanwood rings from her fingers and silver bracelets from her wrists, letting them plummet to the shadowy earth.

The hollow mage displayed her slashed arms, surrendering to her clan. "You must fulfill the promise. I have fallen. End me before I turn."

"Ma nuvenin." The man bowed with solemn honor. He would not deny his teacher her dignity. There was little time; soon the Keeper would become an abomination, the price for striking deals with demons in the Fade. The stoutest among them trailed the First, leading their ruined leader away from the group. It was the sworn duty of all Dalish to stop the corrupted before they destroyed everyone.

"Do not plant a tree for me." Were the last words Solas heard before the dream dissolved, releasing him back into the open Fade.

* * *

><p>Gee willikers, what a huge chapter. No wonder this took over a week to freaking write... Anyways, thank you to all the lovely commentators, you guys brighten my day. To everyone else, I hope you're ready for me to light this thing up. Seriously, I'm preparing to be a very un-nice person, the kind that Cole would be ashamed of. I don't want the Inquisitor to suffer any more than she has too... but this isn't going to be pretty from here on out. Good moments to come? Most certainly. Gut-wrenching agony? Unavoidable at this stage. Making up practically everything from this point onwards? Good luck, readers. Maybe one more softy chapter before the harshness begins.<p>

Easy Elvish translations used this chapter-

(Da'len) little child,

(Ma nuvenin) as you wish


	10. Fire, Fire

SFW- foul language warning

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><p>'<em>Da'len… Da'len… why are they leaving you?—Don't they want your help?—Let us give you more, sweet child, free our flames too—We're your friends, stay-Stay-STAY!'<em>

The Inquisitor sat up in her bed, unable to stomach her tumultuous, interrupted sleep.

Pieces of her dream clung to her conscious like spider silks, unnerving and frantically removed. Screams, fire, panic— everyone was running away but she was too slow, clinging to the same massive great-sword she'd held aloft the day she was made Inquisitor. But it was so heavy that it dragged in the dirt. She was left behind and struggling for air in the thick haze. Alone, alone—countless eyes piercing the swirling smoke. She couldn't hide from the eyes or block her ears from the voices that grated at her soul.

It all began to dissolve as she listened to the mild, flickering wind against the window panes. She looked out into the familiarity of her dim room, softened only by the lambent moon that still drifted in the late night. Chiyo was not reassured by the emptiness. There were no fiends here to torment her, but nor were there any friends in her lonesome loft. She could not guess the hour and there was to be no more rest found in her current state.

Perhaps Varric would keep her company—if he would accept an apology— he might be found writing away on his manuscript with the fresh winds of creativity that often took him. Chiyo doubted if anyone else would be up so late, but maybe one other soul might stand her needful company.

_['Care to chat? You seem off today.' _

'_Not now. I am in no mood for conversation.' _

'_Oh… that's fine. I'll let you be…Sorry for being a bother.']_

It was a bad day followed by an equally spoiled evening.

She abandoned her bed and crept down the stair, tightening the sash of a comfortable robe as she traversed the pitch black steps with ease. Peeking through the first doorway she looked past the dreaded throne and sought the dwarf at the end of the hall. But all was quiet and empty, the normally rolling fires little more than thin embers. From high above, the Enchanter's lights were expectedly out; the great Madame had excused herself some days prior with urgent business to attend to. Chiyo stalked the hall, listening for any sound as she approached another shut door. She gave a soft knock, followed only by further silence.

The tired Dalish pinched the edge of her lip between her teeth. If he was sleeping, it would be rude to wake him. But Solas had always offered to discuss dreams or present issues with her before, a council of reason and understanding, pushing her to think beyond the immediacies of her dilemmas. He'd continuously been an open ear when she needed to take the weights from her chest. Certainly her latest nightmare warranted discussion. She seldom recalled many details of her more ghastly encounters and avoided prolonged trips through Fade when she could manage. Such nights always left her with roughed emotions upon waking, except it seemed, when the perplexing apostate was present. The long-ways from home Lavellan wasn't sure if she could handle discussing her unimagined vexations either, not after her atrocious manners that morning…

_['Ehhh, someone is being a bit of a priss. What's the matter, someone pull on your ears?'_

'_Ha! That's so fucking funny right? Because I'm an elf and we have such horribly long ears?! Tevinter's make the best jokes. Shove it up your ass, Dorian!'_

'_I…hmm… you…Hhh'] _

The Inquisitor had many people to apologize to, when she could cool the boiling rage in her heart and stop hating the entrails of every shem that crossed her path…

Chiyo nudged the hefty wood; it moved noiselessly, the door hadn't been latched properly to her disbelief. Perhaps her visit had been anticipated. Solas had an odd way of predicting her comings and goings, to the point of having an extra lunch on hand at the right hour or a book she could study on any of the many subjects she pestered his knowledge of.

Practically tip-toeing, Chiyo dared pass through the entryway. The door closed slowly behind her and she eyed the dimly lit rotunda. A low, lingering fire still burned in the hearth and the enchanted lantern on the scaffolding added its uncanny color. But the desk was empty, all of the usual artifacts set aside neatly. He wasn't actively working on anything tonight. The sofa was also void of life. No mage's lost in more pleasant dreams here.

He was probably avoiding her too, like the rest of the Inner Circle, fleeing to escape her unbridled irritability. Yelling in the great hall that morning had not won her any favor from her companions.

The Inquisitor sighed heavily and carefully crossed the threshold of the large study. The tightness in her shoulders loosened as she took in the welcome coziness of his space. It was quiet, warm and most importantly safe. The subtle smells of timeworn parchment from the library and roasting hardwoods smoothed the ragged edges of her nerves. She gazed up the curved walls, following the imagery round and round again. So much had come to pass, yet the open spaces spoke wordlessly of trials yet to be imagined. What else would Solas paint in the weeks and months to come?

Curiosity stole her shyness as she considered the short ladder across the room. Chiyo mounted the sturdy platform, pleased to see another of his habits unbothered. Solas' sketchbook remained, left where most would never know of its placement except one small elf who'd come to enjoy watching him draw from memory and nature alike. She'd seen him take a few moments on the easier days of travel to fill the pages when they rested on the roadside or made camp early. With sprightly fingers she turned the pages, stretching out across the planks as the tidy images captivated her focus. Harsh mountain ranges, thick wooded valleys, crumbling, dead ruins and bustling cities alive with people stood as tribute to their explorations.

The Inquisitor couldn't help but gape as she flicked through some of the less organized renditions. There were many new drawings she hadn't seen yet; he'd certainly kept himself busy over the past few weeks. Towards the end of the book less finished work covered the pages, and amidst the mysterious doodles were a few sketchy portraits of herself. Caught in a warm smile or in mid-speech, leaning bored into her palm, little moments tucked away for the pleasure of another. Chiyo's cheeks and ears flushed; they were wonderful images created with noticeable commitment to each fluid pencil stroke. She set down the journal and rolled onto her back, speculating on what sentiments had adjoined his inspiration.

He'd proven himself rather calculated in his regards. A silky word slipped into an innocuous conversation played with the rhythm of her heart. Maddeningly soft touches caught the edges of her hands as they walked together or studied on the couch. Brushes between their bodies that never lasted but for brief moments, unpredictable enough to seem by chance but unapologetically intended. It was only in the exceedingly rare incidences they found themselves unaccompanied did the Inquisitor find any semblance of relief after days or weeks even of prolonged teasing. However those secreted embraces only added to her afflictions.

Solas' tender affections made the world stand still. For a moment there was no infuriating training, no war, no Elder One, no world to save. It was an exceptional and cherished freedom they'd found together.

But something lurked behind the poised reserve he presented. She could feel it just beneath the skin of his lips, right before he would pull away. The glimmer in his eyes and the puckish smile that always escaped before uncurling his resolve gave him away. It was the look of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to her, one who was relishing every unhurried minute.

Chiyo covered her burning face with her arms. Their little romance was going to drive her utterly senseless, and she couldn't be more delighted.

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><p>Solas slipped back into his room for the first time since nightfall, returning from his late wanderings without having made much headway. The spirit of wisdom had vanished once more, disappearing into the deepest reaches of the Fade that even Solas struggled to scope. He'd hopes of watching his friend's progress more closely, to observe their developing personality. They were very different from their last incarnation, less trusting of visitors, prone to replying charily and they'd become increasingly elusive. The mage suspected their undeserved trauma the cause for the feral behavior. This spirit was not content to sit and discuss ideas at length. It required action and demanded answers Solas could not yet provide.<p>

On some quiet nights he would still hear the call, howling hints telling him of things he didn't wholly understand. Sealed children, slow arrows, willingly given sacrifices, and the latest addition: broken mirrors. Where was the connection?

He crouched at the hearth to stoke the remaining coals. But a quiet noise startled Solas as he reached for a fresh log. He wasn't alone. He'd been too self-absorbed to bother checking the shadows; the assumed security of Skyhold had slackened his diligence, he'd grown too comfortable with his surroundings and now he was caught off guard. His sensitive ears directed his attention to the scaffolding; a foe from up high, or another 'gift' from the Red Jenny. With steeled nerves he approached the ladder, watching for movement and waiting to be attacked. He gripped each rung with careful, deliberate motions to avoid sound, and ascended the platform. Solas stopped once his eyes could assess the space but seeing the Inquisitor curled up on her side nearly sent him sliding back to the floor.

The hedge-mage mouthed emptily before deserting the ladder, stepping away until he felt the solid surface of his desk to brace against. The questions pooled as he bid his heart not to race. How long had she been in his room? Had she waited for him all night? What did she want? _Did_ she even want anything? Should he wake her? Might he… Solas reined control where he could find it and banished the passing panic. This wasn't one of his subdued games, but an entirely new arena. Solas reminded himself that he needn't be afraid of Chiyo; she certainly felt relaxed enough around him to be falling asleep alone in his little refuge. Perhaps if she could be so accepting he might try the same. Wasn't this what lovers were supposed to do, to surprise one another, to be customary within certain proximities?

Collecting a tightly folded blanket from the sofa, the apostate braved the ladder once again. This was no different than all their weeks in the field; he'd had no qualms bunking beside her then. But the knot in his throat refused to settle. They hadn't spent the night together—just the two of them, since that fated trip to the Hinterlands. Solas carefully spread out his only blanket, pulling it up to her shoulder. He'd seldom seen anyone sleeping so soundly; the Inquisitor often buried herself in her bedroll when they traveled or seemed at odds with her dreams, but not like she had during their fated meeting in Haven.

Long before, after she'd first fallen out of the Breach—remembering those were fitful sleeps, watching a young elf struggling to remain alive as dreadful magic vexed them from within. Those were not days Solas looked back to with any fondness. Her murmurs of unspeakable nightmares she couldn't wake from had been disconcerting.

Where had her dreams stolen her away to this night, and were they bringing her more peace than his own had? Solas still hadn't been able to tell her about what he had witnessed while dreaming near the Oasis; there was already so much she had to balance as the Inquisitor. Tallying more threatened to topple the scales. The stress of her ordeals was already long apparent, what cruelty would it be to add to her misery. How could he even tell her?

'Oh, I saw your mother essentially kill herself on your behalf because your birth-clan thought you would become a demon and massacre them all?' He had no answers for Chiyo as to why she'd been born such a terrifying child or how to release her true potentials. It would not be an easy feat, but eventually there may be reason enough to try. The Inquisition couldn't expect her to face their greatest foe during the darkest hour of Thedas' history so hindered.

Solas considered leaving her be, though he doubted he'd find respite on the sofa below. He carefully removed his sketchbook from under her outstretched hand, gingerly holding up her fingers to keep them from smearing the edges of the drawing. Perhaps her evening wasn't benevolent after all. In the dying light he could see the dark smudges beneath her lashes.

All day something had being bothering her; a fool couldn't have missed the disquiet that consumed her after her morning meeting with the Advisors. It seemed that more than deciding what to do about the rising problem with the Orlesian Wardens in the Adamant fortress had transpired over those short hours. But he'd had no chance to speak with the Inquisitor about the incident. Nor had anyone else, considering how she'd barked at Dorian upon leaving the castle. Though to her credit the snarky mage had been ill-timed with his usual antics. The baffled Tevinter hadn't even bothered following her to the courtyard, choosing to stand and stare at an equally confused dwarf who'd also tried to question the agitated elf. The pair had turned to accuse him for the Inquisitor's fouled mood.

Solas had watched her go from his doorway; she was clearly in no disposition suited for public talks or one of his walks as he'd been prepared to offer.

"Vhenan…" he whispered as her fingers tightened in his palm. It was almost too easy to join her on the wooden boards. Too simple to extinguish the lantern of veilfire and usher forth the dark night. He considered the bubbling feeling inside his chest rather peculiar as he dared close his eyes. Solas would ask of her troubles in a few minutes once he found her in the Fade, and if she permitted, some of the other questions that had kept him awake on many a late evening.

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><p>"Inquisitor?" Solas called as he entered her dream. They were far in the north tonight, among woods and plains he did not often traverse. The populations so sparse that few dreams were strong enough to remain whole. Solas listened for her voice but only heard a faint scrapping of rock and earth. He followed the sound into a loose glen, the noise echoing softly through the trees. Soon he spotted the Inquisitor, bent down in the open center and toiling in the thin light. She was stacking a short ring of stones about a freshly planted sapling; dirt smeared her hands and bare knees, Chiyo was dressed for the ephemeral, intense northern summer.<p>

"What do you plant this for, is there a memory to be remembered here?" he asked, handing her another stone.

She shook her head, continuing her efforts. "Not for what, for whom. I don't think I will get the chance to otherwise. I don't think…" Chiyo waned and moved to the far-side of the small ring. "I will never get a chance to go home, not that there is anything left there now."

Solas froze, clutching a second rock. He realized the significance of the tree. "The final scouting reports from Wycome came back." She'd only ever mentioned it to him fleetingly as she waited, refusing to relive the crushing blow of the initial status of clan Lavellan.

"They did. It confirmed the original one sent months ago. The findings were presented at the war table this morning." The young elf added more soil to the tiny tree's base. Her hands worked slowly, burying her emotions beneath the roots. Her salty tears would not water this tribute. She'd already cried more than her share when word of demise had reached her before they'd abandoned Haven. But the truth was undeniable now, there was no more clinging to hope. Chiyo half-heartedly wished she'd never asked for a follow up, for the scouts to watch the woods. "The Lavellan's are truly gone. No one managed to escape as far as anyone can find. My clan is dead and I am the last one to hold their memories."

Solas joined Chiyo down by the rocky circle, her mask so thin it would break with merest efforts. But what lay beneath the discreet grieving… and would he dare embolden it. "My condolences, they were important to you."

Chiyo exhaled, considering all the lives that had been cut catastrophically short. "It wasn't just them though," ire touched her voice but she attempted to bury it as well. "The whole area is under purge. Only a handful of Dalish were able to sneak into the city there but even the alienage is feeling the pressures of eradication. There are hundreds and hundreds of elves trapped there now with nowhere to go. If they leave the city they'll be hunted down on the roads, if they stay they risk dying in their beds."

"How many more generations do we have left before we are no more…" Her frustration flared and she chucked a stone that refused to lie correctly. "If only… if only… You told me before, how things used to be. Before the humans took power over the elves, captured them and made them slaves. A world of crystal spires and spells that took years to cast."

"The days before most of the magic was broken. Before men brought their animosity and the essence of the Fade freely came and went with the breeze." Said Solas, adding his own handfuls of loose earth to the mound. "Those days are lost to us, Lethallan. You assume the elven people weren't already in the process of self-destruction by the time the first man knocked on their gates."

"Doomed from the start then." Chiyo rose, sweeping away the earth that stuck to her. "Perhaps we should just accept our fate and return to the Beyond. It would be easier, wouldn't it?" She walked away from the glen with no intention of ever returning to this corner of her dreamscape again.

Solas was surprised, but he chose to encourage the embers that lingered in the Inquisitor's heart as he pursued her out of the glen and back towards the lush plain. "You are dispirited? Is there no fight left in any of you? No wonder the elves have fallen so low." His words were laced with chilled mockery. "They shall follow the paths that take them straight to slaughter, forever subjugated or running away."

She turned hotly on her heels, the suppressed flame caught. Chiyo did not oft-rise to proper anger, but the old gods themselves couldn't halt her once she'd crossed the edge. "You think this is what they want? To die like animals, clinging to ruined temples and shivering in shacks? Do not toy with me; I know you care little for the people." Pride swelled her chest and forged a high-held chin of iron.

"I think they have forgotten what it means to be free. They've accepted their lot too readily." He challenged dispassionately, snubbing her idea of suffocating alone in buried pity. He would pull her from the depths of despair kicking and screaming if given no other option.

"Or was one rebellion all they had in them, oh Herald of Andraste?"

Solas did not flinch as her scorching fire barely missed him; instead he casually brushed the singed fibers from his sleeve. His eyes gleamed with arrogance and mischief behind his cold veneer. He would pull out the hate like venom from a wound, and show her just how effective it was as a weapon. The mage was curious as to how dangerous the petite elf could be, if there were any monster left to warrant the fright of an entire clan.

"I detest that title." she hissed through clenched teeth, daring the apostate to contest her again. Her magic was stronger here, it came so naturally that she didn't need to consider her movements or regulate her usage. Her emotions came with similar freedom, near impossible to tranquilize or stuff behind a plucky smile.

He baited once more, ready for whatever would come next. "Why, because a human woman actually spear-headed and achieved a real victory for the elves? Or do you not like being in such a shadow?"

It was an impressive eruption, one that he combated with ice. It burned away at the grass and dried out the air, filling it with smoke and sparks. But he had to be careful, so very careful, before they attracted too much attention from the nearby spirits. He must keep this bout brief, even if he took secret liking to the stimulating facet of her nature. It was practically effortless here, to slip into his former self and draw on the potential of others. The old Wolf was in his element, but so what the Inquisitor, whether or not she accepted the state.

"Why does everyone shit on the elves? The Orlesians make us into invisible serving pets! The Tevinter still keep slaves! The Circle of Magi thinks we are murdering our own children! The Chantry wants to save our damned souls! And the elves… we hate ourselves more than all the others combined." she spat out each name as vinegar. Days, months, years of resentment and oppression came to a head. "Who gave them the right to such mistreatments? And now you… you're doing it too."

"Come now, this is not the fire you need." He blocked her brutal flames with a high, frozen wall, scoffing as she melted it down. He only defended while tracing slow, precise circles, letting her expend her frustrations with whatever intensity she required.

"What would you know of fire? What have you done outside of critiquing from a far?" Chiyo flowed through the weaponless dance, par for par they neutralized each other. "You watch but do not act!"

Solas continued to goad, exhilarated by her spirit. "And what were you doing to help the elves before being sent to scout the Conclave? Hoarding fractured knowledge in the wilds. Studying half-dead arts. Hiding the scope of your language from your own kin. Would you have rallied your scattered brethren when the Breach finally came?"

"I don't know! Those days were stolen from me." Chiyo's mind whirled as she recalled a life she could never get back, one she would most likely not survive long enough to reclaim. She would certainly not be allowed to live quietly with her people, let alone govern a clan as Keeper, considering her dangerous entanglements with humankind. Her attacks escalated, urging him to fight back with each new spell.

"Then what shall you do for them now? You have already felled countless enemies for the Inquisition, but what would you do for your own kind? If offered the power to set every last one of them free, would you take it? Tell me, I am curious as to how you personally would save the elven race." Solas evaded the clash with only barriers and shields. He remained aware of the Fade, watching for signs of trouble. Already the sky was darkening, her magic drawing unwelcome attention.

"I would take such power if it actually helped! But at what cost, Solas? Would such might given to one person end the struggle and pain of the countless? Would destroying everyone who opposed us give them back their dignity? How strong would I have to become to keep a million elves safe? I want them to fight for themselves, not to be rescued like lost children." Chiyo retorted, struggling to find the bounds to the anger spilling from her core. "Stop holding back!"

"I have nothing that needs to be contained," He nearly laughed, "fighting wouldn't benefit me. I have no quarrel with you."

The Inquisitor struck out with sweltering fists. "You taunt me. Do you always play such cold games?"

"You think I have always been so withdrawn? I almost wish you'd born witness to my youth." Solas caught her by the wrist and tried to twist away her balance. He drew her near, straining to keep her still. He pointed to the small, deep scar above his brow. "But I learned my lessons the hard way."

Chiyo revolved within his grasp and turned the tables on Solas, catching his ankle with the hook of her foot and sending him to the mercilessly ground. She followed him down to the charred earth, her arm still seized but she pinned him with her knees. Her free hand pulled roughly at his collar and she glared, redden face inches from his.

Solas gazed up into her fiery eyes. Here was the wild one within, a spirit that yearned for revolution as much as himself. But she did not know how to attain such a future. "Your remorse will eat you alive if you allow it too. It will burn through that beautiful heart and leave you spent."

"You don't care. When have you ever known such terrible guilt?" She broke, already beginning to un-ruffle as her debatable opponent acquiesced. Her loss of control shamed her but she felt her emotions openly instead of being bottled up as she had always done before. Regret loosened her tears, stinging as she tried not to let them fall. "Their deaths are because of my failures. I could have done more to save them. Am I not allowed to mourn?"

"You are wrong. I want you to grieve, but not by wallowing in the dirt or striking out at your companions." Solas softened and released her arm; he had her full attention and had seen more than enough of her inner—and outer—fire. "I see a woman who could change everything for her people if she truly wanted too, who could spin that blaze on her enemies and reduce them to smoldering ash. With a word you could turn the armies of the Inquisition to your favor but you would never abuse that command. I see a lost version of myself in you, Chiyo. A self I could have guided with what I know now. I care very much."

"I'm just one person." Her rage had subsided; there was no more need for anger. Not here, not today, other's deserved it far more than the man beneath her slackening fists. The doubts and fear of failure drew near once again, but she banished the notions swiftly.

Solas reached up and took the side of her face into his palm. He slid his fingers up her warm cheek, across the tattooed temple and over the fine ridges of a pointed ear. "And you are enough."

Chiyo burned anew, but not with animosity as the tips of their noses brushed. The flame was indulgent, honeyed, and much more at ease than the inferno that'd passed.

"You're an ass." She whispered, teasing lips staying just out of her reach. His words had reached her heart, reminding her of greater purpose once again. She would find a way to bring peace to the fragmented and drifting elves, she would bring about the end of their centuries long nightmare.

"I've been called much worse." He assured before surrendering to her ardent affections while there was still time to linger.

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><p>*whew* This one was a real challenge and got about twice as big as I originally had lined out! And I caved, I said I would bring on the pain *grr* and here I am doing another softie chapter... But who can guess as to what's coming next? Will there be... a 'minor' character death involving the assault on Adamant? *gasp!* What ever could be next on the path of our poor Lavellan?<p>

Pass the popcorn, won't you love?

Special thanks to Lilybud- your consistent comments are fabulous. I really wish you could see how I blush and squeal when I see them.

Elystaa- You rock, I hope you are prepared to put up with me for several more weeks considering how often I post. At this rate, maybe this will over with by April, think you will go the distance?

Until next time!

-Erika

P.S.- Description update because I freaking love quotes. Too much, too much Da:I cheese for you? Did I tell you about how much I LOVE quotes? Because quotes... And evolving writing that is progressively becoming more out of control... And you'll find out more later.


	11. Heaven Help Us

The Inquisitor sat upon the lone throne of Skyhold, high backed and sharp edged, there was no room for comfort. The great hall was somberly still considering their Herald had just returned, on the side of triumph no less, after a lengthy journey across Orlais. She'd been gone for weeks; such returns would have been customarily accompanied by some form of celebration; a lively feast, a dance in the tavern, but there was to be no applause today.

The many onlookers remained unobtrusive as they waited for the public trial. No one moved, all but for the three people that slowly advanced to the seat of judgment. The stifled stride of hefty boots on stone and the soft clink of irons echoed off the soaring walls and vaulted ceiling. Chiyo watched the approaching feet of the guards and their prisoner. Her eyes were too sore to rise far from the gray floor, with a head so heavy she held it in her hand. There was a buzzing in Chiyo's ears, a dwindling leftover from their frightening trip.

Her heart, or what was left of the pieces she'd managed to affix together, lurched at the sight of a forlorn woman in heavy shackles.

"Ser Ruth, one of the Senior Wardens of the Order." Josephine tallied her documents, turning to the Inquisitor she commenced the hearing. "She was one of the many who slit the throat of another to bind a demon. She does not contest this. In fact she surrendered to us. She requests no mercy; she wants the public justice of the headman's axe."

"You're very serious about this, Ser Ruth." Chiyo forced her head up, even if her posture failed to follow. "Is more death what you really want? Have I not done enough to your order to fulfill the need for punishment…"

The Warden hesitated, trying to stand proud within her ultimate disgrace. "There is no excuse for my actions. I murdered another of the order. That blood marks me more than the blight ever could."

"With the exception of their actions while thralls of Corypheus, many treaties allow Wardens any extreme, if it opposes the blight." Josephine added to the Inquisitor's considerations. She had scoured as many documents as could be found for precedence of the reprehensible engagements the Orlesian Wardens had implemented.

"I can't do it! I can't use the greater good to justify my crimes, as if it would create a future I could be a part of!" Ruth would not stand for the leniency the Inquisition had tried to offer. She'd already rejected the proposal of exile and would not been joining her fellow officers away from Orlais. "It is wrong that this broke me. I've done worse with full sanction. I can do nothing except be an example of the cost."

"The greater good?" Chiyo began to titter, low and harsh before burying her face in her hands as she shook with the audible release. She was not ready for this, everything felt much too raw after their latest ordeal. In all her life she'd never once expected to be a part of such a brutal onslaught, or to have ended up within a living nightmare. To be the one to have to choose between who would live… and die in order to save her own skin.

"Then I am also guilty." She mumbled through her fingers as the ringing in her ears grew louder, blurring her senses. Chiyo walled herself in and heard little more as she remained motionless on the throne; the nightmare returned, it mattered not that she was awake now.

"I left a better man to die…"

"Inquisitor?"

"We still need your verdict."

"Inquis…."

* * *

><p>"So, your mark did not come from Andraste?" The Warden Stroud shook off the effects of witnessing the stolen memory. "It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual."<p>

The soul, the spirit, the demon—whatever was projecting the form of the fallen Divine answered. "He intended to rip open the Veil, use the Anchor to enter the Fade and throw open the doors of the Black City." Her face was graven as she looked towards the ever distant, ever looming, untouchable heart of the Fade. "Not for the Old Gods, but for himself."

Divine Justinia returned her attention to Chiyo. "But then you came. You disrupted his plan and the orb bestowed the Anchor on you instead."

"So this was what, an accident? Some ricochet in the middle of a fight? " The Inquisitor was staring, dumbfounded as the pieces fell into place with the gift of her returned memories. "Then this was not the will of your Maker, or Andraste, they weren't involved in any of this. I'm just…"

"I'm just a mistake…" Chiyo held out her hand to view the glowing, green mark before her fingers balled over it, covering the treacherous Anchor. "Yet another place in this world I wasn't supposed to be a part of."

It was Varric who reached out to her, placing his stocky hand over her marked fist. "You know that's not true, no one here doubts whatever fates brought us together. You were born for this kind of crap, just bad luck, like the rest of us."

"Please, just don't start calling it _divine_ bad luck…" She almost smiled, and would have done so fully if they weren't in such dire straits.

"If you do not believe that the Maker made this world and everything in it, including your accident then nothing has changed." The Divine was unmoved by her indications. "Your path is unaltered and cannot be undone by your lack of faith. But if you wish to escape this Nightmare you must take back all that it took from you."

"Make haste," the spirit warned before she disappeared. "I will prepare the way ahead. He knows that you are here now and you still have much to recover."

Chiyo continued onwards, they could not linger even as Hawke and Stroud began to argue. The entire party had witnessed exactly what the Grey Wardens had done to the Divine. It was troubling, even if the Wardens had been under the control of Corypheus, to think that they would have ever tried to align with the agents of a madman before he'd taken hold of their minds. It was becoming clear exactly how dangerous these Wardens were to themselves and the rest of Thedas. Just as the Templars had been corrupted by their need for stronger lyrium, as the Mages had torn themselves apart in the name of independence, so had another ancient order fallen under its own misdirected, hierarchal cannibalism.

And now they were here, six living souls trapped physically inside of the Fade because of another little accident, another great plan gone awry. In wake of the Archdemon that destroyed the bridge Varric, Dorian and Solas had all tumbled into the rift Chiyo had torn open in a mad panic to save their lives. This version of the world was unnerving, disorienting, and terrifying, with their resident Fade expert showing the only contrast in emotion. Solas was utterly fascinated, everything was so different and unknown, though he would have never openly suggested such a dangerous place for their exploration. His proficiency provided little security, but at least it gave them small insight to their enemy and surroundings.

The Inquisitor had already apologized profusely to her companions and repeated herself as they fought their way through the tangible nightmare. Their trip to the Western Approach had been her idea; a chance to amend poor behaviors with the thrill of adventure, for Varric to spend time with Hawke, for Dorian to have a chance at destroying a few Venatori agents along the way. For Solas, it was the opportunity to find new dreams.

Her magical mishap was certain to get them all killed if they couldn't find a way out of the Fade. But hearing everyone's worst fears made the Inquisitor wish they'd been left to fight the dragon instead. It would have been easier and far less painful in comparison to the small hell they had to wade through. It was the graveyard that struck the Inquisitor the deepest. Each of her companions' souls laid bare on plain stone; she saw pieces of them that should have been kept private. Most were understandable: Despair, Temptation, Helplessness, Madness. Such things as many people would reasonably fear. Even her own, Failure, was to be expected.

But Solas' stone was one of the saddest, and the one she understood the best. She had never probed him for how long he had wandered, the stretch of the years he had between having friends or trust in others, or why he had renounced the people he must have come from. She wouldn't press for the details if he didn't want them known, no matter how apparent they often were. Little bits would slip through in their talks, hints of a terrible mistake, tidbits of the village from his youth, words of his willful adolescence. Solas told many a story, but the rarest seemed to be of his own tale. A pain sat in his chest like a stone, too big to be a pearl as Cole would have said; one that wouldn't be shook loose with gentle cajoling.

Sweet Cole, if there was anything to be thankful for it was that she'd asked him to stay in Skyhold. What kind of shock would being forced back into the Fade have inflicted been upon the troubled, empathetic spirit?

With more of Chiyo's memories returned to her, of the Divine being the one to allow her escape through the Breach, the fighting only continued both within the party and all around them. Demons, spiders, accusing the Wardens, the incitement of the mage rebellion, all exhausted the party with neither Stroud nor Hawke backing down until they'd practically been ordered to. The Inquisitor did not blame the Grey Wardens for most of their crimes, their lunacy was comprehendible, but they had grown far too dangerous to be left unchecked.

"That's a big one!" Hawke shouted as they approached a massive Pride demon that blocked their path. The beast wasted no time in lashing out at the lost party, joined by a host of smaller demons. Power undiluted as it would have been in the real world, it scattered the group, burning through the shields they desperately cast.

Chiyo ran, trying to take higher ground, she drew the minor demons with her calculated retreat. The Inquisitor's lightning and flame would make quick work of them, sparing her companions the hindrance so they might better focus their efforts on the bigger challenge ahead.

The looming Nightmare however was not content to remain silent as the mortals slowly wore down another of his horrendous pets. "You have me shaking Inquisitor. What a _powerful_ mage you have become, such a fine specimen must be the absolute pride of her clan…" His toxic words reverberated through the fragmented, cavernous Fade.

"Shut up!" Chiyo barked to the disembodied voice, shocking her way through the fiends as they flocked to her rocky perch.

"Don't listen! He's full of shit!" Dorian warned as he cast another barrier around those still near and grounded.

"Or perhaps that's why they didn't need you anymore. Expendable. Weak. Is that why your Keeper sent you out, to risk capture or death over shreds of information? Your lack of control must have been their bane, but they were stuck with you as their First." The derisive aspect laughed as his monsters altered themselves to match the pain he desired to inflict and become a personalized torture. Their bodies stretched and grew familiar, assuming sickly humanoid features as they changed.

Chiyo's efforts doubled as she burned her way through the morphing creatures till only the stoutest remained, its shape solidifying into a distorted rendition of an elf she'd known longer than any other. Ragged hair hung in damp dishevelment over pointed ears, clothes torn to bloodied rags, eyes utterly void of their once known temperateness and shadowy beneath the haunting, glowing marks of her blood writing. The false Lavellan Keeper approached and Chiyo froze, her hands shaking around her brandished staff.

"I told you…" hissed the fabricated Deshanna, a dark and sinister imitation. But the image was more than enough to shake the Inquisitor's state of mind. "I told you to listen and to return, why did you not? You killed us all by siding with the shemlens."

The Inquisitor dropped her staff to cover her ears as the air filled with a cacophony of shrieks, of screams, of shouts from nightmares long past. "Go away!" But she could not tear her eyes from the face and figure she wanted to force from memory and dream alike. "I tried! I tried to help, I swear!"

Solas was caught far across the battlefield, the massive demon stood squarely in his path. There was no reaching her until the hulking beast was slain. "Inquisitor! Whatever you see, it is not real! Things are not as they seem!" he called out, releasing the blizzard stored within.

"Useless girl; why not sing with me… what was the song your mother taught you, the one you were always humming when we took you in." The demon reached out for Chiyo with atrociously long hands, driving her back in stumbling urgency to the cold stone walls that entombed them. The words were coarse and grating, coming from the mouth of the soulless creature. "Halla, halla, guide me where the river runs free. Owl, wise Owl, show me the oldest, tallest tree."

"Stop it!" begged Chiyo, the air in her chest compressing so tight she thought her ribs might explode. She had to breathe, to get away, but there was nowhere to run. _'Push it down, push down the fear. Be better, be stronger! You can do this!' _She told herself again and again. This was not the version of a once wise and caring Keeper to be cherished. She didn't want to die remembering such horror with her mother's gentle song, corrupted from its intended purpose, on its cracked, bleeding lips. It was supposed to be a song of dreams, meant for ease of sleep and to give protection from atrocities.

The monster did not falter, her mouth grew wide and fanged, and a hungry tongue flickered behind the stretched skin. "Bear, bear, who stole my favorite hunting bow? Wolf, clever Wolf, spare me of your woe."

"I said no more! End this game. You are not Deshanna Istimaethoriel!" The Inquisitor ripped her hands free of her ears and struck out at the demon that had drawn too near. "How dare you! How dare you dishonor her name, her very memory with your wretchedness?"

"Are you certain, foolish child?" it croaked in anguish, startled by the frozen wave that rooted it to the spot. "Perhaps we have been here this whole time, lost in the nightmare because of you..."

The Inquisitor hardened her heart and stood firm, long disremembered training recalled. She'd had enough of the Nightmare's toying and would hide no more as her wits began to return.

"Finish the song."

"What?!" the demonic liar was taken aback, its ruse weakened.

"The real one." Chiyo ordered and took a deep breath. "If you are her spirit then it should be simple. You yourself asked that I keep it safe, don't you recall?"

The demon balked, becoming more gruesome as the Fear's grasp was shaken. It did not know the hidden words of the Keeper's melody. "Why do you treat your teacher so poorly, where is your respect?" It used the beloved voice stolen from Chiyo's memory and tried to draw her into the abyss of guilt once more.

"No? Then I shall remind you." Chiyo faced the ghoul, knowing the power of her command. The song was more than simple lullaby, there were words saved only for the worst of dreams. "Ghilan'nain, Ghilan'nain, grant my journey all your favor. Andruil, Andruil, make arrows fly straight and never waver. Dirthamen, Dirthamen, none dare steal our secret breath. Falon'Din, Falon'Din, in your arms I shall find death." Her song rang clear through the darkness, searing away the façade with her cathartic spell.

"Come now, Keeper! Sing the words of banishment, cleanse the disillusion! How do we finish the Dream Singer's Call? This is what you started, see it through." The Inquisitor sneered, retrieving her staff with forte renewed. She wrapped the ruined image in fire and reduced the creature to back its previous form.

"Sylaise, Sylaise, add your bless'd fires to our song. Elgar'nan, Elgar'nan, loan your wrath unto this wrong. Mythal, Mythal, give protection when your children are spent." She clamped a shining hand over the demon's disintegrating face, taking no delight as she overwhelmed her enemy with the last of the citation and the swelling of her own power.

"Fen'Harel, Fen'Harel, may the Dread Wolf catch this one's scent."

* * *

><p>"Inquisitor?" Josephine repeated as she cautiously touched the unresponsive Herald's shoulder.<p>

Chiyo lifted her head once more and rose from her considerable chair. The world of the present resumed, though the recent past would not be cast far from current thought. She descended the steps gradually and stood before the guilt-ridden Warden. "I left Stroud behind to face certain death. I banished your diligent order from the land they have protected for centuries. I destroyed your revered fortress. I conquered that which I do not claim to fully understand. I have no standing to pass judgment over you, though I will offer what I can. If you seek death for your actions, find your peace in the Deep Roads. Take arms against the darkspawn and perish with whatever swiftness you require. I shall find my fate elsewhere. Do as you will, Ser Ruth, we shall accommodate your last requests."

She did not watch as the woman was led away by the guards or answer her dwindling objection. "Commander Cullen." Chiyo turned a stony eye to her perplexed advisors.

"Yes, Inquisitor." The fatigued former Templar stood to attention and corrected the aching sag of his shoulders. Combat and travel had not physically treated him well and there had been too few hours to recover.

"Have we completed repairs to Judicael's Crossing?" she queried flatly, already wishing to escape the confines of the hold. The Inquisitor needed open skies, simple woods and something to busy her hands. What lay across the ruined bridge would satisfy her enough—she would not be unprepared the next time she crossed paths with the Archdemon.

"Completed as promised during our extended absence." He answered, observing her walk away with weighty concern. Their Inquisitor had returned from Adamant chipped and battle-scarred. He saw her as a blade that had taken too many hard knocks and spent excessive lengths under the grinder's wheel being honed back into usable form. "Though our scouts have yet to find survivors across the river. They have requested assistance."

The restless Inquisitor headed straight for her quarters. "Good, I shall pack a coat. I'm taking my leave at dawn."

* * *

><p>You know you have it bad for a story when you keep finding yourself crying over something you <span>haven't even written yet<span>! It is so hard right now not to just jump 'X-#' chapters ahead and slam all these horrible feels out before its fully ready. I'm warning all of you now, it involves Sera, a character I really didn't understand until a few days ago when everything finally clicked with us in my head. There is _that_ one cut-scene and that one banter that really set everything off about what she means to the Inquisitor.

But how are we holding up so far? Still doing okay? I know this is taking _forever _to get to the BIG point but it should be worth it, promise. We are so close to all the blasphemy I pre-wrote back in December before I started this madness. Cross my heart and hope to die this was all intended.

Anyone else need some more Solas time? You there, you in the back. I see you hiding, come with me, we have bald egg-heads to obsess over. Bring tea.

-Erika


	12. If You Leave

"It's quite early, Inquisitor." Solas rounded the edge of the tall, wooden stalls and found the industrious Dalish woman tacking her mount. It was a large beast that towered over the small elf, patiently standing with his long head and neck over the gate of his stall, waiting for the preparations to be completed. The Fereldan Forder's dark bay coat glistened with health and excellent grooming. He was considered exquisite in both conformation and disposition by equestrian standards, though the quiet mage lacked an enthusiastic stance for riding. The decent mounts were tolerable, but many were also terrifyingly independent creatures that he avoided when his legs would suit the task.

"I didn't sleep much." She made her rounds with the horse's hooves, working by lamplight in the barely lit morning. She checked for small stones or loosening nails from the flat, iron shoes. The journey wouldn't be horribly time-consuming, two long days if the thoroughfares were clear, three easier ones if she traveled unhurriedly but finding a blacksmith on the road always spelled trouble. She would prefer not to stop or be delayed by a thrown shoe or bruised sole.

Solas stood at the animal's silky, dappled neck, offering a brief stroke beneath the length of black mane where the softest hair grew. "Chiyo…"

"What?" her response slipped out with involuntary bite. The Inquisitor continued her final checks with little regard for the other mage. Her stirrups were still at the correct length and all her bags properly tied down. The girth of the saddle she'd had specially commissioned was snug but not too tight. She did not sit as comfortably in the rigid, formed contraptions of human design, preferring the softly padded and giving utility of an open Dalish seat. It was supportive enough for long distances, but much closer to riding unaided.

"Will you not wait for the others?" asked Solas as the Forder nudged his probing pink nose against the pack on the mage's back, searching for anything that might do for a treat. Hardly anyone else had risen yet, still enjoying the comforts of their frequently missed beds. No stirrings could be heard even from Blackwall in his lofty retreat nearest to the stables.

"They can catch up, I want a head start." Chiyo clicked to the gelding to get his attention. He willingly dropped his head to be bridled and subsequently led from his stall. "A few hours between us won't hurt."

Solas watched as she tossed the reins onto the mount's withers and vaulted herself up high on its broad back, settling lightly in the simple saddle. She looked so small upon the great beast, the soaring height only added to the developing distance in her eyes and withdrawn demeanor. He touched the mount's expansive shoulder, slipping his fingers around a supportive strap that crossed the horse's breast, asking for a pause from the rider.

"May I join you?" He contended with the idea that she might want him left far behind.

"Do we have to talk?" Chiyo glanced down while straightening her winter coat out from under her legs so that it could hang freely over the animal's tone flanks. "That's all everyone wants to do…"

"Only if you wish it." He held his breath with uncertainty as she rolled the idea around mutely. Chiyo hadn't asked anyone to journey with her this time, instead she had requested volunteers were there any, refusing to be held responsible for putting anyone in such immediate dangers so soon after Adamant. Varric and the Iron Bull had been swift to sign on for another trip to Emprise du Lion. Visiting the once famed hot springs sounded grand—if they weren't chock full of dragons when they got there.

The stretch of her silence portended a no.

"Ok." She finally held out an open palm and loosened a mostly bare foot from the minimal stirrup to allow him easy purchase.

He instantly dithered. "Oh no, I'll walk." Horses were troublesome on each separate end, considering their knack with blunt teeth and hefty hooves, and they were dubious at best near their centers…

"But I shall not." Chiyo thrust her hand lower until he reluctantly took it and she pulled him up onto the considerable steed who would take little note of the added weight. The horse had ponied their resident Qunari on more than one occasion, what were a couple of elves in comparison.

Solas tucked himself behind her with little room for propriety to spare if he didn't fancy being bounced off the horse's rump. She pressed her naked heels against the gelding's sides, urging him forward into a leisurely trot. The apostate was quick to grasp onto the smaller mage, holding her waist snuggly as he was jostled.

Chiyo did not speak to the yawning guards who gave her a farewell salute. She said nothing to her companion as they passed through the open gate and crossed the long bridge that lead to the narrow, twisting paths of the Frostback Mountains. The hours crept on with only the gentle puffs of breath the horse released and the clack of his feet on the solid ground to break the quiet. Chiyo guided them down the mountainside with knowing straightforwardness, following the same trails they traversed time and time again on foot or in caravan.

Solas soon found himself growing more comfortable as a double, tolerating his rigid body to unwind and move with the natural cadence of their charge. He no longer needed to brace fiercely to her back or grip to her torso for dear life. He remained near enough to conceal his chilled nose in the warm, fur trim of the hood she'd left down about her back and shoulders. Initially he'd been anxious about such extended hours in her physical presence, but it was near natural to find a diffident, secreted pleasure in their fitted nearness. Solas allowed his hands to rest over the mesmerizing musculature of her leather bound thighs, feeling the taut ligaments and tendons sending their nonverbal instruction down the length of her legs. A nudge to the left to avoid a risky patch of ice, a stronger grip to ease down another uneven slope, relaxing completely to give approval to a rolling canter across a short plain. The horse did not ask for her words but it listened regardless, and that was all she truly needed.

By mid-day they'd reach the base of the mountain range and found a decent place to rest the horse near a small waterway that rushed away from the mountain pass they'd left behind. Solas dismounted first, twisting his back and shaking sore legs while the Inquisitor took their cohort for a much needed drink in the fresh steam.

"One question." Chiyo broke her long silence while stretched out across the coat she'd cast off in the improved warmth of the valley. She watched the immaculate sky above as they helped themselves to a cold lunch of the prior evening's leftover meat she'd weaseled from the cook and a few apples they managed to keep, mostly, away from the grazing Forder.

Solas curled a small knife around the crisp fruit; he removed a section and offered it to her. "Hmm?"

"You can ask one, I know you've been meaning to." She ran her finger over the sharp, sticky edge, appreciating the distinction between the slick red skin against the grainy white flesh. "Just… not what everyone else keeps asking of me."

The mage cut another slice for himself. He already knew the subjects she wished to avoid by having experienced much the same horrors; Solas didn't need to harass her about the Divine or the Wardens or even the nightmare only she had seen. The magic she'd used in the Fade had certainly interested him but he'd wait for those answers until she was ready to offer an explanation of her own volition. "May I consider it, for a short time? I won't waste the opportunity."

Chiyo nodded and finished her meal, presenting her empty hands to the roving creature that crept near to the enticing, sweet smells. It's warm tongue and lips checked her fingers for anything left behind, eliciting a short lived chuckle before she picked up the waterskin, leaving to refill it—and to give her slobbered hands a brisk rinse.

The horse eyed Solas, spotting the last piece. "Here, my friend. You'll have earned it by days end. Just leave me my fingers."

He waited until they had remounted and continued well onto their path along the meandering border of an evergreen wood before considering his lone question. The Inquisitor nestled against him lightly as she permitted their mount to find his own footing, in one hand she held the end of the reins that flopped loosely against the horse's ponderous neck. She was lulled by the return to nature, and the unassuming demands of riding became the perfect reprieve.

The trees did not ask her how many soldiers she wanted to risk on the field—the sun shone, the rain fell, and that was sufficient for them. The wind held no whispers of noble plots or sly deceit against her opposition—what did it care if the breezes filled the sails of fleeing aravels or lofted the wings of ravens bearing ill-tidings with the same force. The hares that skittered across the road sought only their cozy burrows and fragrant grasses—they vexed not that the purported Herald of Andraste was Dalish or a mage or a disbeliever of the Maker. The horse was not hampered by the additional burden of her chaotic world; he would carry her just as far with half the lives of Thedas on her shoulders as he would have if she'd never once left her own quiet woods.

"When this is over, and the Inquisition no longer relies so incalculably on you where would you like to go?" Solas asked as he dared encircle her waist with his arms once more, but not out of need for stability or fear of falling.

"I'm sorry?" Chiyo was taken aback, detached from the distractive train of thought that stole most of her attentions.

"If the question makes you uncomfortable I will rescind it." He offered; her subtle flinch had him keen as to what sore wound she'd predicted him to salt.

The Inquisitor clicked to their mount, encouraging his pace. "No, it's… that wasn't what I was expecting."

"I can give you a moment to ponder." Solas suggested, empathizing with her reflections.

She shook her head, waving the stubby tuft of hair she'd tied back off the crown of her head. Chiyo had neglected to cut it over the months, but its care had not yet become so tiring to amend just yet. "Actually, I already know the answer. But you will laugh at me."

Solas raised an unseen brow, flipping through his recollection for such an occurrence. "Have I ever laughed at you?"

"…yes… after Wintersend, when I minced those elvhen words up." The tips of her ears and the points of her cheeks began to show the hints of pinking embarrassment. "You snorted so loud that Dorian heard it and he _made_ me repeat the 'joke' because he didn't believe you were capable of finding anything funny."

The memory returned, warm as mulled wine. Oh how her tongue had forsaken her intentions into a diverting twist of a compliment. "Did he understand the amusement?"

"Of course he did, after he got me to repeat it three times." She grumbled under his subtle teasing. "Please don't tell Varric what I accidentally said about dwarves…I am not curious about such _private matters_."

"Ir abelas, ma vhenan." Solas apologized with a lissome kiss on the side of her unprotected neck. He'd found that a man could grow accustomed to such fond vicinities. "Will you pardon my prying once more? I promise not to make jest."

She fought the urge curl against the unexpected touch, a rare gift of half-bridled affections. Chiyo's flustered face continued to burn as she pushed her way through a promised answer. "Where do all elven children dream of going when they are grown? When they want to see for themselves if any part of the great story was ever true. So they might bring back a golden tile, unearthed for the first time in millennia, glittering in the sun or a tiny piece of crystal, caught in the knot of the oldest tree, to be valued above all other possessions?"

"Arlathan?" yet another revelation had him enquiring. "You refer to the suspected forests in the north."

"The Lavellans never got near the place," she murmured, idly rolling her thumb across Solas' defined knuckles. "Though we traveled almost that far on some of the harder years, most humans don't venture that route—they believe those wood are haunted."

"I never thought you much the treasure seeker." Solas tried to imagine her excavating the prehistoric prominences in search of rusted cutlery or broken pottery, pilfering tombs for chance coin and relics. But she hadn't stepped so much as a foot on the watched graves they had investigated in the Exalted Plains; her sense of reverence ran as deep as her principles measured.

"No… I just… I just want to walk among those trees. I want to spend days—maybe weeks out there without sighting another person. If there are ruins I want to see them, just one shred of proof that it wasn't all made-up to make children dream of better days when the world has been too cruel or for elders go peacefully into their last rest. Such would be enough." she continued, "It's silly, really. I know those are not the woods the ancients would have recognized. Those trees have long since fallen and given way to their offspring. But I would have peace in knowing them for myself."

"Maybe someday I shall take you." He proposed before they fell into a comfortable calm for a while, following the trek of the road as the afternoon passed swiftly on. Dusk was not long off by the time they approached a major crossroad, but the Inquisitor pulled the gelding beneath her to a sharp halt before the wide fork. She looked to the separate passes hesitantly, ignoring the impatient shifting of the mount who longed to reach camp and have his hard-earned grains.

"Should I get out the map?" asked Solas equivocally, though he'd hidden his primary suspicions well. "I can't immediately recall which way we take either."

"I don't need the map; I looked at it all last night." Chiyo gripped the smooth leather reins between her fingers. It was getting cold, darkness would fall soon and she still hadn't made her decision. Her stomach quailed with concerns and culpability, as it had all the previous evening and throughout their trip home from the Western Approach. "I know where these roads lead."

"But which is the one you will take." His words fell flat on her ears, not so much a question as it was a provocation.

Under what banner would she continue when presented with the off-chance of stolen freedom?

"What do you think would happen if we went right?" Her head hung low with untying ignominy, Chiyo corrected the horse and he finally stood complacent, releasing a low snort as he acquiesced to the short cessation of their travels. The path directly ahead would send them on their way to the snowy, ravaged township in need of aid. But if they veered just a few simple steps they would be cast towards the tapering sea to the north.

"I'm not certain of the current penalties of horse theft, to begin." Solas' comment sidestepped her request for derailment.

"Solas." She cautioned his quip.

"The Inquisition depends on you." He stated, declining to stir her tumultuous emotions with his own.

"Would they hate me? Would they hunt me down?" she asked between slow and steady breaths. "How many miles would I cross before they took me back in chains for treachery? Would they drag me around the country, closing rifts in shackles?"

"I didn't come here to stop you."

She closed her eyes as he spoke, listening for any hint that the words may be untrue. Chiyo did not feel courageous, or gallant, or ordained like the hero the Inquisition proclaimed her as across all of Thedas. Her choices hurt everyone, whether she tried to assist them with all she had to offer or if she helped too much, making everything worse in the end. She desired the decisions wrested from her command or diminished entirely through absenteeism.

"Because you already knew." Chiyo had supposed it of him when he found her in the stables too early to be happenstance. Her planned ruse was known after all, but the choice was still in her hands. "Your real question was going to be different, wasn't it? You were going to ask me—would I still be lingering at these crossroads if you hadn't come along or would I already be escaping." Her voice struggled to maintain its composure. She'd waited days for this chance at shaking off her duties, away from the companions who'd encouraged her every step. But how could they keep such trust in her feeble character? A genuine hero would never bolt from the greatness thrust upon them; a real champion would rise to meet every challenge. "Am I so easily read?"

"_Your heart is not silent to my ears_." The words in elvhen bore more weight than their poetic sounds should have carried.

"It could be so easy; to just keep going north until I ran out of road and found the sea… would you run with me?" she turned in the saddle, watching him from over her shoulder. "Away from all of this mess? Even if it meant observing the last days of Thedas as we know it come to pass?"

"I asked to join you. The fate of this world rests in your palm and I am determined to see this tale through." Solas' eyes meet hers with unmoving persistence, but there was ardor behind his gaze. She would reveal herself wholly before the sun sank below the tree-line, that much was certain. "What you do with your gift is your choice; I cannot tell you which path is the correct one, Inquisitor."

She furrowed her dark brow, stretching the old scar into a tight line. She wondered what he could possibly see in her now at the weakest hour of her convictions. "I am just a raindrop in a river... Just some trivial nobody who thought she was crafty enough to spy through doors and instead involved herself with matters out of her depth. Just an elf with half the world waiting for her to save them. I am not brave, I am not wise, and I'm not strong, or steadfast or good enough for the title given me."

"You're a terrible liar; yet I would go a thousand miles with you just to prove how very wrong you are." Solas firmly retorted, his mouth a hard crease. "You are letting this feign of cowardice make your decisions because it is easier; such indolence is not part of your nature. It shall pass."

"How are you so certain?" But she didn't need him to answer. Chiyo could see his fixed determination in every feature. Solas did not often humble himself to being wrong, and now was no exception.

The coursing wind rattled through the trees, pushing with all its insistence that she make her next move.

A murder of crows passed overhead, their rough call cracking through the dying light in caveat.

The warmblood chewed peevishly at his metal bit, testing to see if she was still at command.

"Has the Inquisition misplaced their faith in you?" he queried resolutely.

"I don't know." Her jaw tightened to match before she looked away. How many would die if she chose to stay, how many more would die if she didn't?

"Will you let them all perish, regardless of your self-slights?" Solas sensed a change in resolve, her pulse knocking hard enough to feel in his own chest as she took up the reins once more.

"No." She set her eyes to her path. It was a fool's notion to begin with, wanting to escape fate, but being allowed to test the cage door had made enough of a difference.

Solas only had one more question for her.

"And does this last Lavellan run away?"

"…Never."

Her heels spurred the horse to sudden life, carrying them westwards, to whatever end that waited in the looming distance.

* * *

><p><em><span>On Horses<span>_

_You've never had a mount like the Fereldan Forder, a hardy warmblood. Don't let the size fool you: they're no meant for the farm. Centuries of careful breeding have taken common stock and produced a glory. A creature as much at home in a charge as they are in a march across nations. But for all the stamina and speed they place at your command, press too far, and you'll be picking dirt from your teeth. They know their role and expect that you know yours. Warning and promise and all that.—Codex_

* * *

><p>Honestly, I don't think I could personally handle being the Inquisitor. I can barely handle being a normal adult, let alone some kind of savior. The ulcers and sleep deprivation alone would do me in. Yet our Inquisitors put on their brave faces and do what must be done for the greater good and never themselves. But do you know what might make this little Lavellan feel a bit more confident? How about kicking a dragon's teeth down its throat? I think yes.<p> 


	13. We'll Fall

The far traveled apostate could have imagined at least a dozen better ways to be woken up after a chilly night under the open sky. Acceptably, the aroma of the earth and woods gradually being warmed by the sun's first light or of breakfast searing in a seasoned pan would have been desired over the singed odor of hair and leather that greeted him. The insufferable chipper of trilling dawn birds a preferable chorus than the alarmed yelps and heavy, roaring voices meeting his ear. And most certainly a whiskery graze on drowsy cheek from their gluttonous horse, better still— something softer from the mage he accompanied, a much more agreeable rousing than being shocked out of sleep by sudden electricity.

"There you are you little shit!" The Iron Bull had boomed as he snatched the snug bedroll off of the Inquisitor in advance of being zapped in her distraught, upturned panic.

"For the love of Andraste's leaky left nipple, Tiny!" Varric hollered, knocked over by the blast. "I said we should spook her, not get us killed!"

"You could have just said good morning!" Chiyo huffed in exasperation, scooting across tarnished ground before her bedding was unceremoniously dumped at her feet in a lumpy pile.

Solas groaned tiresomely as he lowered his staff; even in sleep it was never out of reach. "Tracked down by complete idiots. How unfortunate." His pithy gaze directed itself to the disastrous pair; it was the look of a man wishing the skulls of his foe set afire. "Must there be such stupidity in spades at this hour?"

"Would idiots leave such nice trails for practically anyone to follow? Not even a hundred meters from the road; who trained you people in stealth or do mages' not believe in such a thing as basic defense? My feet are fucking huge, but did you hear me? No. Will you find any prints? Hardly. What if someone had actually been trying to dispatch you?" The Qunari patted away the prickling sensation that still coursed over his half-naked torso, raising his skin in tiny, puckered dots.

"And you especially." He singularly eyed the sour looking elf he'd overturned from her bed. "If someone grabs you in your sleep you strike to kill, not stun. If you were one of my men I would kick your ass."

"We'll then it's a good thing you are one of _my _men." Chiyo wrinkled her nose as she rubbed at a sore hip. "But you guys are quite a bit later than I expected."

"We would have been here a lot sooner if someone hadn't stayed up all night writing damned letters." Iron Bull shook his massive, horned head. "Leaving at dawn means _leaving at _dawn, Varric."

Annoyance stippled the dwarf's good-humored nature. "Hey, those letters were important. And it could have been interpreted as after breakfast by any decent fellow. If you'd asked me I thought people only said 'at dawn' because they wanted to be dramatic."

"I wasn't being dramatic," Chiyo corrected bluntly. "I fully intended the hour of our leaving."

"And you left us behind anyways, what was that all about?" Varric questioned, finally picking himself off the ground, feeling much too old for such knock-abouts. "At least from the looks of it Sera won't be filling asses with arrows after she finds out that Blackwall was wrong about your ill-anticipated departure."

"Just needed some air." The Inquisitor answered, mostly to herself, before she cocked her head, wiping the dregs of ruined sleep from the corners of her tired eyes. "And what are you talking about? He wasn't present when we left."

Varric took a moment to correct his static-ridden hair, forcing it to lay smooth again. "Something about gentle, hushed tones that boded of untold promise and looking longingly into each other's eyes, the silence saying what the heart could not. Hero said that he spied it all through a gap in the floorboards, quiet as a Chantry mouse. According to our favorite Warden, he saw you two leaving in what he suspected as an elopement excursion."

"E-elopement! You're joking?" The Inquisitor stumbled across the word; the tightlipped lovers briefly turned to face each other in hastily lived mortification. Solas immediately began to busy himself by rolling up his bed things and securing other effects, refusing to take further part in the humiliating jest in matters that were of no one's business but his own.

"Sera's probably lit my bed on fire by now…" Chiyo reddened from nose to ear as she muttered to herself gracelessly. "I'd almost prefer spiders in the dresser again."

"We don't have weddings in the Qun," Iron Bull joined in the elbowing; he was enjoying the young elf's fidgeting evasions. "But I hear there is always lots of good booze… and cake. Or is that just human events, Boss?"

Varric laughed heartily. "Do elves even do that, elope I mean? I could see a City elf leaving their alienage in the dead of night to abscond with a lover, but a Dalish one? Thought that everything you guys did was some sort of mysterious ritual _beyond_ outsider reckoning. Wouldn't want to miss a wedding though. I could write a beautiful toast if you want. Just tell me how he swept you off your feet, I'll add the prose, you just give me the passion."

"It's not like that." The Inquisitor began to chew at a dry patch on her lip. Up till now she'd assumed her relationship with Solas relatively unknown beyond Dorian's flair for observation and Sera's blatant dislike for the time the mages' spent together. If the Tevinter mage had discerned more than what he'd occasionally alluded to then Iron Bull would undoubtedly be privy to all the small details. And if the Red Jenny suspected anything, then all of Skyhold would be speedily informed. But if Varric knew, it wouldn't be long before half the literate population of Thedas would become aware of their romance, even if their names were altered.

"Then what is it like?" asked Varric with a sly wink. He'd been suspicious of their amorous association for months, practically from the time they'd established themselves at Skyhold. His favorite work table was so conveniently placed by the lowest entrance to the rotunda; it was easy to note the coming and going of the beloved Herald, catching the improvements of her mood after her frequent visits.

"It is not open for discussion." Solas warned curtly and with indisputable finality.

Chiyo peered over her shoulder, catching the apostate's backwards glance as he readied his meager possessions. What was she really to Solas? Certainly more than a lonely mage in desperate need of a mentor, a willful companion to wile by the empty hours with, or a mere flirtation teetering on the brink of restrained desire. To call him her lover felt, inadequate.

Solas called her his vhenan, but he'd yet to define exactly what that entailed.

* * *

><p>So this was how he was going to die.<p>

Not the ending Solas had expected, but he'd never accounted for dragon attacks on his list of probable outcomes. At least it wasn't a beheading. But here he was, dangling several hundred feet off the edge of a soaring plateau, spared only by the slipping grasp of the Inquisitor. He could feel the grinding pressure in the bones of the wrist he clung to—her fingernails dug into his skin but the pain she inflicted had bought him time to think. The tension of every muscle in her arm protested like bowstrings drawn too far back, threatening to snap with the next provocation. And there was the stomach plummeting awareness of the staff she'd miraculously wedged into a rocky cleft rapidly disengaging. It was tilting lower and lower, on the cusp of breaking free all together. Another shift, an inch of leverage lost, and they would fall to the harsh, hard ground below.

There were seconds left at most; and he was going to expire knowing that the last thing he had done was yell at her for foolishness. Knowing that their last morning together had been filled with concealment and disgrace. He was going to meet his end without telling her how he felt, what she meant to him or even a real fragment of his own truth. Why hadn't she released him yet? Chiyo could buy herself time, or perhaps even save her life by merely opening her fingers and letting him fall. His fondness had certainly not warranted such a gift, to be liberated from the ending he feared above all others. But he condemned himself undeserving of their paired demise, even if it would fulfill his self-regarding need, it wasn't worth her chance at living.

_And why now, at the worst of all ends, was her voice so full of unbending hope?_

_Do you trust me?_ It was a simple enough question, so why did he struggle to answer? He'd followed her across the long bridge less than an hour ago of his own free will, believed that she was resilient enough to survive the challenge. But it became clear once on the summit how unprepared they'd all truly been.

Solas had immediately thought of at least twenty reasons why taking on a dragon without full military back up had been a questionable idea at best. Who needed healers, or lines of archers or anyone who'd actually had sufficient experience in taking the massive reptiles down to assist them anyways?

Making up such adventures as they went along always ended so pleasantly, it would have been a shame to have tried any new tactics. It hadn't helped that this particular beast had a predilection to take to the air, out of range of the grounded party, and had knocked them about like children's toys. No matter how many multitudes of small holes they'd torn through the Hivernal's wings it would take to the sky and attempt to scatter the group with its icy blasts.

Varric had fared physically the best out of their small party, but by the finale of their battle he'd run precariously low on bolts, caltrops and poisons. Though he had managed to damage one beady, cold-blooded eye with an extraordinary shot, his advantage in the fight had quickly come-up short.

Iron Bull's blood lust had only swelled his brazenness. He'd been hell-bent on staying within dangerous reach of the dragon's massive jaws. The Qunari spy barely noticed the gashes and scraps that ravished his hulking form. The pain that would have toppled another man was vigorously welcomed, each injury only added to his single-minded aggression. He'd appeared to be having the time of his life.

Chiyo had drained her mana faster than she could recall it. But there'd been a fire raging just beneath her skin, stoked higher with every successful hit she made and further fortified by the knockdowns she suffered as penance for her failures. The Inquisitor's flames and shocks were well placed, she'd blackened and cracked the magnificent hide of their foe but the sting of the burns only elicited more wrath from the great wyrm.

Solas had barely been able to keep their barriers up before the dragon's breath and beating wings had worn them down to bloody pulp. He could only have manipulated the delicate nature of the Fade so much while maintaining control of it. Hurting his companions with haste would not have solved their current predicament. But he'd spared what power he could offensively; their combined efforts just hadn't been enough.

Even better still, they'd used all their potions and the monster still wasn't quite dead. It seemed the more blood the dragon shed, and it was losing it in droves, the more incensed it became. But if they'd just held out a little longer, they might've stood a chance at exhausting the dragon's strength before getting killed. Or they'd have at least been able to escape if the Iron Bull hadn't been taken out by the beast's extended, swinging tail.

"Son of a bitch." Varric had exclaimed and stood alone, guarding the stunned Qunari as he peppered the dragon's mouth and throat with the last of his bolts.

"Varric's in trouble!" Chiyo's focus had shifted immediately from the thrills of battle to her friends in grave peril. With her best shot of fire she'd scorched the massive face of their opponent, and stole its attention. She had to give their rogue a chance at reviving their warrior, if any of them were to endure.

"Hey! Over here! Look you bastard!" she'd shouted and whistled, waving her staff. The Hivernal pivoted on thunderous legs. Its jaw hung agape, partially broken by a destructive blow from a warhammer. With a livid glower set on the Inquisitor the dragon had stampeded.

"Are you mad?!" Solas had shouted. He'd unleashed a powerful blizzard, using up what had been left of his already exhausted mana, before he'd pulled the Inquisitor into a run by the neck of her robes.

"I had a plan!" she'd yelled back, laying as many spells on their path as she could spare. They'd exploded as the dragon crossed them, but there had been too little power behind them to inflict much lasting damage. "But I only got so far with it!"

"What do you mean _had_?" Solas had failed to keep the words down as their dash was stalled on the towering edge of the Pool. "What sort of asinine plan do you call this!?"

"You know what Solas, when we get out of here you can yell at me all you want, okay?" Chiyo had pressed her back to the formerly well-constructed archway, barely evading another icy outburst. They'd heard the Iron Bull shout as he returned to his woozy feet. He'd swung a hooked chain into the flesh of the dragon, trying with all his strength to pull it back around. The Qunari had been ignored and the beast slammed its great head against the carved stone, toppling the elves' last protection and subsequently pushed them over the edge.

"Take my hand!" It was an order, not an invitation.

In a split second decision, Chiyo had thrust the serrated blade of her staff into a fissure in the stone, lodging it as deep as she could. She clung for dear life as the walls and ground around them broke loose, tumbling down the high peak.

Solas would not look down. His eyes remained fixed to the frozen sky and the shadow of the dragon that searched for them, hindered by the resuscitated combatant.

"**Do** you trust me?" She firmly asked, the strength of her confidence shaking him from his flurry of half-rooted thoughts.

There was no pain heard in her words. The threatening displacement of her shoulder under their combined weight should have emitted agony. The Inquisitor struggled to catch a toe hold, to prevent their bodies from twisting in the open air. The staff in her marked hand gave another nauseating wobble as she kicked for purchase.

His heart pounded twice in his ears before he heard himself answer from unknown depths.

"Yes."

It was too late; the dragon had spotted them and was reaching out to finish the kill with what remained of its broken teeth.

A flickering grin before Chiyo replaced her attentions. To Solas, that radiant inner light was bright enough to blur the vision of certain death that loomed just above them.

"Please try not to die—"

She let go of the staff.

* * *

><p>Solas opened his eyes to find the world about him in a state of endless flux. The landscape pulsed in steady flickers, moving through untold ages that even history books had long forgotten or since been purged of. Open, grassy plains gave way to sapling trees. Great woods thickened and choked the twilight sky. People appeared, transforming the forest into homesteads. Fire came next, burning everything it touched to the ground. Rains came and grass grew once more, healing the land.<p>

This was most certainly the Fade, some arbitrary crag he'd yet to investigate even after all his extensive travels. But when, exactly, had he fallen asleep? Solas couldn't recall setting himself adrift to be caught in such a swirling nexus. The magic in the peculiar place pooled where he stood, thick with tangible currents that tingled as they circulated across his form.

"What do you see?" A voice of cold reason, more settled than when they'd last met. The once delightful spirit he had not perceived for some months appeared assiduous before him; they were the only constant as the cycle continued through flood, barrenness, stone cities, abundance and malady.

"The world as it has always been." The mage answered, unmoved by the chaos. They must have called him here; having garnered whatever information it so desperately sought without his rejected aid.

Cloaked in darkness and battered by the elements of the Fade, the spirit of Wisdom was barely recognizable save but a few loosened tendrils of silver hair. "What do you hear?" the studious tone commanded his audience; they had not come so far and through such depths to discuss anything—but to tell.

Nothing. Solas heard no sound beyond the abandoned echoes of their voices, even as the junctures of mortal war played out across the capricious dream.

"You must listen." the entity spanned the short distance and indicated for one of his hands. Solas held it palm up between them before the spirit presented a tightly packed fist.

"As you say." Solas remained calm. The spirit's fingers loosened, releasing a fine trickle of sand. Soft and shushing, he focused on the granules, catching sight of intermixed, tiny bone fragments and splinters of glass that bounced off his skin.

"You ignored it last time." A horrid chill seeped into his chest; each of the spirit's simple words a biting reminder of prior failures committed.

Wisdom scoffed—their discontentment breaking through. "But you will understand. We can give you no more." Solas staggered back as the spirit cast the remaining contents of their hand at his brow, blinding him with the abrasive material before he could shield himself against it. He stumbled in the churning mire, cursing his imprudent compliance.

By the time he'd cleared his vision enough to function the spirit had departed, taking the evolving world away with its disappearance but Solas had been left behind on familiar ground. He'd walked these derelict stone paths before; he'd touched the Andrastian designs of the walls that rose about him. This site was known to Solas, he could smell it in the air even if he couldn't see with full clarity yet. It couldn't have just been his eyes that made the haze, or blurred the finer details.

Dark and ruinous, the shadowy remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes came to unsteady light as he surmounted the long stair, carefully feeling each step in the gloom. The shouts of battle burned past his ear in ricocheted waves.

Swords sparked against crystalized flesh, shields thrummed with their thunderous defenses, spells snapped with unquestionable force, the dying bellows of a great demon filled the frenetic night. The Fade pitched violently and Solas stumbled, the shifting field hurtling untold moments forward in the dream.

Solas steadied and continued, catching only glimpses of many of his companions, but they were not in motion. Still as the statues that had once glorified the holy courtyards, their bodies remained carved in form. Cassandra was caught mid-swing, her sword transfixed centrally through its forceful arc. He saw Sera unsupported, dropping from on high, knocking her arrows in pairs. Solas could barely make out the Inquisitor, forging ahead past the stilled body of their deteriorating, Archdemon foe. Wrapped in a maelstrom, her focus appeared entirely on the enemy that remained. Clinging to the orb that gave him the power he should never have been able to access—Corypheus remained at the peak of the next stair, primed to deal with the thief of his greatest plan.

_How long had he been slumbering this time? _These were most definitely not past events he had prior knowledge of in his last conscious moments. This felt like no other dream he'd ever undergone, save one, but that had been another lifetime entirely...

It was clear that this was the final battle they'd endeavored so hard to meet, and he had somehow missed it. If this were truly a dream in the Fade then all he was seeing had already come to pass.

'Could this be my punishment in death? Though not as I imagined it, I guess dying wasn't so difficult after all…' He thought himself a permanent wanderer of the Fade, his spirit not allowed to diminish into nothingness. His body must have failed at the base of the cliff. Now his soul was cursed –forced to watch his influences take their lasting tolls. Solas moved on, keen to see how the world had fared without his continued manipulations.

The Inquisitor clashed with the false-god first, shimmering with the energy that surged from body and staff alike. She was magnificent; galvanized and sharpened. Fastened to her resolve, she'd transformed her body into a weapon for the most paramount skirmish she would ever bear witness too. Chiyo appeared to have amply blossomed without his tutelage. She did not seem to be using magic—she'd become magic. It exuded from her even in stillness; staff raised high, in the middle of casting a spell.

The cry of battle pierced the muteness; an explosive cracking of wood joined the sound, followed by the rushing winds of a disobeyed tempest. A jump in the fragmented vision had the apostate reeling. Solas cringed at the erratic volume but his path was unaffected, caught now in the stationary crossfire. He looked behind to find the other warriors, mages and rogues pushed back with the forceful blast.

Roars of corroding anger, magic hissing in the air, and then a second explosion of ineffable magnitude all but ruptured the deep chambers of his ears and stole his balance. The air filled with viscous smoke, Solas moved staggeringly through the battleground, shielding his tender eyes from the inert light that flooded the temple. Still he pushed on until he tripped over the remains of a splintered weapon: a ruined staff, the crystal at its tip beyond repair.

There was a ghastly crackling from above, like that of fired glass being thrust into cold water—Solas looked to the heavens and saw a horror that petrified him to the core. The Veil, inadvertently flawed from the moment of its inception, was fractured from horizon to horizon and disintegrating at each jagged line. Soon the spirits that lingered there would come through the spreading tears. Their suffering would be incalculable.

The atmosphere began to fall in chunks, the only motion in the now silent world. It burned as the essence of the Fade pushed through the devastated divide. The ancient Magister's might had been enough to forge the Breach, but Corypheus was nowhere to be found. All that remained in the haze was a tiny body, dashed across the crushed tiles of a darkened sanctuary floor. The orb she'd exploited had rolled away from her, fissured into jagged pieces as the last of its power evaporated.

The lost mage dared kneel down beside her; his heart plunged towards the abyss at the sight of scorched hands and empty eyes. The Inquisitor was crumbling; mind, body and soul shattered from within by the draw of using the foci. In a final effort against their blighted adversary she'd obliterated the barrier that had kept her safe, the seal that had spared her original fate. No mortal body could ever have withstood such power. To have so much extracted at once, magic torn free of the flesh, had been the Inquisitor's final downfall.

Now she lay broken by her own potency—strong enough to defeat Corypheus, to manipulate the foci of Fen'Harel, to shatter the Veil that had cost him his _godhood_ in its creation with a single, all-consuming strike; but not strong enough to rise from her efforts.

Their enemy was vanquished, wiped from the face of Thedas, but was it worth the irreparable cost?

"Not like this." He heard his voice crack through a throat tight and swollen with the ache of complete and utter loss. The orb he needed to restore his people was devastated, the separation between the worlds he'd given up everything for was dissolving, and the demolisher of both still held one last trace of a smile on colorless lips, proud to have given everything she had to save Thedas from the would be god. Solas reached for the fallen mage with trembling hands before the world was ripped away from his conscious once again, leaving him beside a hero's tomb in an endless field of clotted graves.

But no flowers grew from the shallow mounds; only shards of bright, red lyrium, singing the realm's last epitaph to the lone soul who could hear it. He'd been wrong. This was the death he'd anticipated.

"It was never supposed to end like this."

* * *

><p>First and foremost I want to thank Elystaa for saving me and this chapter. Her patience spared this originally from the garbage bin and helped get me unstuck with countless hours of patience and encouragement. Honestly, I might still be rewriting that initial abomination for the next two weeks if she hadn't given me a few good editorial pokes.<p>

I will not admit to the hours I have been keeping to finish this one but I'm presenting it now before it gets over processed. We have so much ground to cover in the next few weeks and I do not want to find myself stalled over smaller hiccups. That being said, I always tweak a few days after I post, I re-read all this so much that sometimes you just have to step back and let it breathe before nudging things a little more. Really, how is it you can scour something 6+ times before publishing and still find a damn typo?

And you know how I keep saying "this should be about X chapters long"... just forget I ever mentioned a cut off. I really have no idea but I am beginning to believe this story might be setting its sights on 100,000 words. I mean seriously, we haven't even covered... *cough* So who's ready for some hurt/comfort niceness, and some smart Dorian quip, and asking certain companions for little favors? And who else keeps replaying the post Temple of Mythal romance scene in DAI with an egg-head... *gross sobbing*

-Erika

PS- how should we celebrate, ALL 50 OF YOU (!), this story making it this far? Honestly, my hat if off to each and everyone of you. Thank you.


	14. Must Be Dreaming

Soft.

Caught in fingers.

Wrapped.

Over—under everything.

Warm.

Too warm.

The soft is heavy—but it moves.

Chill.

Cold gnaws the damp of… flesh?

A body—must be in one.

It has a face.

The nose is right, but on the head—not hair.

Cloth, clotted hard to skin.

Tongue rips away… stuck to the roof.

Breath.

Expands— it hurts.

Hand on the aching ribs.

There's a pulse.

Alive? Can't be—another terrible dream?

* * *

><p>Solas forced his shaky legs off of the low, narrow bed, leaving the warmth of the ram pelts that had covered him. He sat up in a deep hunch. The room swam in unsettling circles as his bleary eyes adjusted, the yellowy light of a lantern offended their sensitivity, even through his tight-lidded squinting. He did not recognize his surroundings; the cracked, plastered walls seemed regular enough, but the windows were boarded shut and scant other furnishings filled the space. A discolored table held the burning lamp. An empty picture frame, the canvased image stripped, sat in a corner. A wooden chair with a broken leg was left propped by the door. A small pile off castoff, bloody bandages lay near the cot.<p>

He tried to stand, haphazardly tripping on an abandoned blanket at his bedside.

The ache that drummed inside his head was nauseating, but it compared little to the swollen, bruised mash that his flank had become, protesting each of his tottering movements. Step by leery step, he made it across the single room, seeking out his effects and a weapon. But none were to be found in the bare abode.

The voices of men caught his ear, rallying the acid of a bitter stomach as the mage dared lean against the door. Humans, their common speech was rough but unalarmed. Someone laughed briefly, it was almost familiar. Perhaps they didn't know he'd come to. If this was real, which he highly doubted, he had to escape before they found him; Solas would not be taken prisoner by their kind, not again…

Holding himself together, Solas pulled at the loose door; its hinges did not forsake him. Met by the cold evening he shivered. The body burned from within, damp with sweat, the wintery air was a shock to the senses. Not far off was a campfire, blocked with the lumpy forms of soldiers, their shadows danced across the snowy ground as the flame wavered in the light breeze. Some among them were of strange build; but the figures that he saw could not have been genuine. He'd walked the graves again and again, all had perished.

'_Another dream. Demons showing me what I want to see. They shall not fool me.'_

Each footstep came with great effort and cost as Solas tried to stick to the building's perimeter, but his dwindling energy did not permit for proper silence.

The largest male looked up from his conversation; abruptly turning the excessive horns that spanned his breadth the Qunari caught sight of the escapee elf.

"Hey, look who finally got out of bed." Solas found no aggression in the voice, but he would not trust the beings before him. That's exactly what they wanted, to lure the dreamer in with calm and safety, but demons were tricksters by nature and would prey upon the feelings that would entice him the most. He must call their bluff; force them to reveal their true nature if they denied to let him pass.

"Whoa there, Chuckles." The shortest, stoutest among them rose to his feet, the firelight glinting off the golden threads of his tunic, the rich red of his hair and the impressive armature on his back. "You feelin' alright there buddy?"

"Ma emma harel…" Solas growled through his rough, desiccated throat, in no condition to fight but he couldn't stop the weighty draw of magic he called forth with the verbal intimidation. The frazzled apostate wrapped the essence of the Fade about himself as armor and weapon alike.

"Maybe we should get the Inquisitor…" Varric recommended to Iron Bull as their unstable companion spoke again in a language neither understood. Harsh, biting words, but the threat being made was apparent. They would not fight their companion without good reason, but nor would they allow themselves to be overtaken in his disorientation.

Bull immediately cocked his head, sending the two soldiers they'd been keeping company skittering off through the trifling cluster of repeatedly abandoned buildings. Both the dwarf and the Qunari began to regret sending Chiyo away. She hadn't gone far, but it was the first break she'd taken in days.

The defensive spell Solas had called began to burn, melting the fresh and sparsely falling snow at his feet in a wide ring. He could barely maintain the energy required to forge a barrier; even simple standing was taking a heavy toll.

"Easy now." Iron Bull kept his voice low; they trailed the stumbling mage as he managed a few more steps. "No need to get hasty. Why don't you drop the babbling elf shit and actually talk to us, Solas?"

Tense minutes passed and the irate shouting continued, the cautious pair were nearly struck when they dared get too near in their slow pursuit but the elf they followed was quickly becoming exhausted—and more unpredictable.

"What's going on here?" Their Herald huffed, having returned from her short stroll in haste on a splinted limb.

"Careful, Inquisitor. This one's cracked…" warned Varric under his breath, hearing the uneven approach of their typically light-footed Herald.

"I thought you guys were going to watch him." Chiyo hissed, handing over a freshly filled rations bag to her wary companions.

"It's not like he was going anywhere when you left." Muttered Bull before the Inquisitor marched ahead, her sole concentration on the progressively agitated fade-walker.

"B-banal alas!" Solas faltered, refusing to look at the newest apparition. Not this one, not the last face he had failed. He could not bear the torment of the deceitful presence. This abomination was not worthy of her beloved image. "Ashatel." His power flared, pushing her away as he made a hectic scrambled towards the icy woods and unusable dwellings.

Chiyo kept her balance and bid the others to stay with a halting gesture before following the fraught apostate through the less habitable remains of what had once been a prosperous township. Utterly bewildered by his behavior, she tried with all the knowledge she'd gleaned to translate his harried speech as he pressed his thinly clothed back to the frozen, residual wall of another devastated home. He could go no further.

Solas' words came forth in arduous gasps. _False woman… not real… monster masked in flesh…I will destroy you…_

"Solas, wait." The Inquisitor cringed as he lashed out once more, cornered and failing. She had never seen such panic and fear, nor lack of recognition on the habitually disciplined apostate.

_You did this…fault is yours…hurt me… thief of hope…_

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry, you're right. This was my fault." Her voice persisted as forgiving behind the sudden wash of remorse. Chiyo's choices had hurt yet another who'd depended on her for safety.

"Eth sahlin, eth sahlin…" she whispered, driving her way through the punitive barrier. Solas was shaking; the meager garb he wore damp with sweat—skin red and slick with fever, but his stony, detached gaze wouldn't rise high enough to meet her. Instead he cursed the Inquisitor, but his wavering threats fell on unlearned ears.

"It's freezing out here, Solas…" Regret splintered her voice as Chiyo slowly stripped off the long, heavy robe she'd been wrapped in, exposing herself to the biting cold. Full, fat flakes of snow sprinkled her unprotected arms. She offered the warm layer, holding it within easy reach. "Na inan ven'ar."

Solas shook his throbbing head in useless disobedience, but his eyes betrayed him and in looking to see the image of the one that had meant the most he noted the scarcely washed, splotchy stain that spread across the front of her light tunic. Old and browning, a mark of blood, but the fabric was untorn. Whose blood had been spilled on her breast? Solas' hand strayed towards the bandaged wound on his temple, but he pulled it back down in uncertain swiftness. "Ar'din… nuvenin na'din. Ma emma… ghilan'him banal'vhen…"

_I don't want to kill you… you are… the path … led astray…_

"Ir abelas, but you have not taught me all those words yet. I can barely understand you." Chiyo dropped the robe, letting fall into the crunching snow and offered up her empty hands. She didn't object or struggle as he fiercely grabbed at her lean wrists, one still bearing the bruises of his last touch. Solas' strength finally dissolved, knees hitting the frozen ground, his grasp on the Inquisitor the only thing keeping him upright still.

"Ma isala hamin." She murmured sadly, her heart breaking with each of his timorous tremors as he buried his burning face in her captured hands, soothing the feverish skin on his cheek and brow against her cold fingers. "We have to get that fever down; will you allow me to aid you?"

_I cannot rest … already dreaming… demons shall not tempt me…_

"Dreaming? Solas, ma vhenan… where do you think you are?" She carefully lifted his head, finally able to look him in the eye. Chiyo searched through the evading windows of his soul to find the source of his rage and madness. He truly did not believe the world about him wasn't made of falseness, lies and memory. The shuddering Dalish wordlessly joined him on the snowy ground, resting her damaged leg on the abandoned clothes. _Ma sa'lath_, her chill lips promised to his febrile, chapped mouth before he had the chance to turn away.

Real.

So very real. Solas could smell the faint traces of herb that clung to her skin beneath the salt of long dried, worry spilt tears. He could taste the wretched spice of the tea she drank to ease the multitude of her stress, behind the feel of the lips whose shape he'd learned through careful study. What demon could ever copy such tiny fragments of her being? His constricted grasp loosened, but he clung to her in delirious despondency.

"The Fade… I cannot wake up." Solas groaned, the staunchness of her presence steadying his distress. "I've always been able to wake up…"

"But you are awake. This is real." The Inquisitor encouraged him once more, troubled by the emptiness in his tone. "I tried to find you; I called each night when I could sleep."

"You _died_, you were _dead_, and I saw it. What happened, Chiyo, we fell and then…?" he trailed, nauseous at the recall of their peril. "I think I'm going to be ill."

"A nightmare. A terrible nightmare. You've been unconscious for four days; I don't think there is anything left in you for that." She carefully helped him to his unsteady feet once he was ready. "If you come back with me I will tell you everything."

* * *

><p>"You're serious? You didn't see her open a rift in the dragon's face? You were right there!" Varric balanced on the rickety chair that would have served more efficiently as kindling than furniture.<p>

Solas pondered, feeling more himself again as he settled back into reality. It certainly explained the bright light he'd witnessed before all had been lost to him. The Inquisitor had been shining with hard-pressed strength, not just confidence. However, the retold events failed explain why he'd been thrust so deep into the Fade.

"Boom! Tore its head clean off." Bull added in excitement, "We should show him what's left! Just a headless corpse hanging off the side of that cliff! Boss, that was a great fight, I owe you a drink."

"That takes care of the dragon… but what about the fall itself?" Solas continued to sip the thick, warm drink that he'd been handed. Milk still heavy with cream, laced with sugary dollops of last autumn's honey; it was far more palatable than the restorative the Inquisitor had prepared.

"I finally did it." Self-satisfaction snuck its way over the face of the elf at his side. "A real fade step—I guess it was more accurately a fade _fall_. I mean, it wasn't perfect…you paid the price of my miscalculations… But it worked, my timing was just wrong."

"With what energy did you have to do such a feat?" The mage inquired, clearly remembering both their states of exhaustion. Opening the rift through sheer willpower alone had been impressive, but there would have been nothing left in her to spare for another large spell.

"I pulled it," Chiyo tried to explain, grasping at the empty air with her marked hand. "It felt like I snatched it right out of the rift, straight from the Fade."

Solas choked, nearly spraying the sweet drink in his alarm. "I-Impossible!" The mattress he'd returned to felt as if it had fallen away. Magic didn't work that way; it must be drawn from within first, not completely circumvented and stolen out of thin air. Certainly, the ambient energy could be tweaked, toyed with and bent for effect, but flat out and freely used? Therein lay the answer, she'd pulled and twisted physical energies from the source, opening channels that he shouldn't have been able to follow back in a state of unconsciousness.

"I really don't have a better explanation." The Inquisitor ran her fingers over her unkempt hair. "The rift was starting to close and I just… took what I needed."

"Your theory needs further examination and I am in no place to dissect it now…" Solas placed a quivering hand over his dry brow. His dizziness had returned, but not because he hadn't eaten or drank in nearly a weeks' time. "I should lie down."

"You're not going to get all weird on us again, are you?" asked Iron Bull, standing nearest to the door. "Really thought you were possessed or something…"

"I cannot ask you to forgive me for my behaviors." Solas was ashamed of his reckless display. "It was completely inexcusable. Mere dreams should never have affected me so."

"Chuckles, you were stuck in the Fade from what we understand. I've never dreamt before but I've had the chance of going there twice now in my lifetime." Varric shrugged his cumbersome shoulders. "I can't imagine what it could have been like to be trapped there for days on end."

_Days_. They said it so simply. But why had it felt so much longer…

Bidding him goodnight, the rest of the company did not wish to test the limits of his recovery, nor did they trust him enough yet to stay within proximity. To Solas, that was clear by their tense posture alone. They'd spoken with friendliness well enough, but he had unsettled their confidence.

But one remained, a small woman kneeling on the bed, tending to the wound above his ear with fresh poultice and bandages. A silence had stretched between them, one that he was glad to leave unbroken. There was so much to tell her, but what fate would come to be if the knowledge was shared? How might the Inquisitor alter her choices if she knew the potential outcome? Could she reforge the path they walked and turn it once more from the impending doom? What if it came to choosing between sealing Chiyo's powers permanently to keep from using them or risking a likely death by having them unleashed before they broke her?

The soundless Inquisitor did not protest the arm slipping behind her hip or the long ear that pressed to her breast, listening to the constant strumming of the heart below as she tied off the cotton wrapping. Everything was still real and his world had not yet crumbled around him. There was still time, even if he didn't know how much. But it was difficult to loosen the memory of cracked, blackened hands and lightless eyes.

Solas did not have to ask for her help in finally laying back down, still unbearably sore but on the mend with all of the elfroot tonic that coursed through his system. Nor did he need to tell her to stay as she settled beneath the heavy furs that held off the frigid evening and the chill of the breaking fever instead of taking to the floor as Chiyo had done nightly since the fall. The mage wasn't required to admit that he needed to hold her then more than he needed answers or rest or freedom from the pain that addled his bones.

One night. Just one silent and selfish night to make it through to dawn.

It would have to be enough.

* * *

><p>Solas entered the second level of the library but he had not traveled the stair in search of any book. Instead of perusing the multitude of available text he approached the pensive man who'd usurped the only window. There were solutions the apostate had tried in vain to solve alone over the prior months, but everything he had once considered had been turned upside-down two weeks prior in the Emprise du Lion. Perhaps another outlook would shed fresh light onto the dilemma.<p>

"Is there a moment you could spare?"

Dorian slowly lowered the book he'd been lost in. He peered over the heavy text and eyed the apostate that infrequently sought him out for conversation of any kind. But by the sound of it, Solas seemed to be asking for aid instead of the usual reproving of previously discussed theory. "That depends on if we are just going to talk or if you are going to square off with me about my comments on Tevinter casting techniques. I should not have claimed such originality on our last trip. It seems there was much we stole from the ancient elves."

"And there is much you take from them still." Solas' eyes narrowed, but he'd already mentally prepared himself for the northerner's usual witticism.

The seated mage closed the leather-bound volume with a snap and added it to the tall pile nearest his chair. "Did you come here for politics Solas, or something more within my capabilities of changing at present?"

"Entirely otherwise." The tall elf answered emphatically. He stepped to the side, opening a pathway out of the narrow niche. "But not here. Outside, if you're of the mind."

"If we must, the day is nice enough for the South. I could use a walk anyways." Rising to his feet, Dorian straightened his rounded shoulders. "This chair is not conducive to the health of my posture." He followed Solas out onto the empty battlements for both privacy and fresh air.

"How may I _humbly_ be of service?" he asked as they stopped, overlooking the hustle and bustle of the thriving regiments and livelihoods below. Troops made their last preparations for fast approaching mission to the Arbor Wilds. Deliveries from all corners of Thedas crossed the gated threshold and slowly dispersed through the hold. Unhurried men stopped by the Herald's Rest, in need of a mid-day pint or two.

Solas held his question momentarily, weighing his words with great care. He required aid but he had no wish of exposing the full truth before it was necessary. "I'd hopes that you could enlighten my understanding on some of the finer details of using blood magic. I have no experience, but the application has caught my interest."

Dorian snorted with amusement. "And what makes you think I would know anything about such a foul thing? I mean yes, I do know a good deal about most subjects, but that?"

Solas crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the joke to pass. "You come of the correct background."

"So because I'm from Tevinter I must know something about blood rituals, right? How assumptive, you give me _too much _credibility." queried Dorian, brushing at the tips of his well-groomed moustache, smoothing the hairs away from his postulating lips. "I will tell you but only if you spare me no detail of what it's like to dance naked under the full moon, growing flowers with a song."

"…Point taken." Solas admitted to the conjecture. "But you do know something?"

"Of course I do! I'm a Tevinter Altus after all!" he chirped, enjoying the annoyance clearly inflicted on the other mage. "But it is not something I practice. I don't care much for some of its uses. It gives others too much power to change the people that don't suit their whims."

Solas pushed his past broadening irritation, the knowledge he pursued was now vital and worth obtaining even through disagreeable consultation. "And what do you know about undoing blood magic? Can the work be removed?"

"That depends…" Dorian paused to consider. "How much blood are you willing to use to wash away the old, how much time and possibly lyrium do you have access to? How strong of a spell are you trying to break?"

"It is unlike me, but I'm uncertain. I've never seen anything quite like it before." The apostate leaned heavily on the short, patterned stone wall that faced the courtyard, watching the steady milling of the people below.

"Aren't you helpful." Dorian clucked his tongue behind his teeth before joining his fellow mage in the surveillance. It wasn't long before they spotted their equally gifted companions, talented mages in their own right. The Inquisitor and the Enchanter strolled along the tall edge of the level divide, tracing the built-up wall above the healer's camp. But by the looks of their interaction they seemed at odds, on the verge of an argument.

The Tevinter drew his eye from the developing scene and observed Solas, noting a forlorn gaze on the unyielding face. "Maker, how you look at her. The last brilliant dawn before the fated noose."

"I don't know what you are talking about." But he couldn't force himself to twist his eyes away. Head held high, hands on her hips, it was clear she had no intention of backing down.

"It seems you don't know a lot of things. Varric told me what she claimed to have done…" Dorian began, sighing heavily, considering the unmanageable implications. "I tried to ask the Inquisitor myself about the matter but she wrestled with how to put what she'd actually done into words."

Solas could almost hear the other mages, their voices rising to terseness. "And let me guess, you mentioned the new skill to Madame de Fer?"

"No actually, she pulled it from old Bull like a silk ribbon, Ben Hassrath training my ass." Dorian shook his head in dismay. "But I did give her a few sovereigns and told her that she was out of her depth as a trainer. She threw them back and referred to me as 'sweetheart' in such a manner I considered hiring a guard for my bedroom door."

"So we should presume that the Lady Enchanter might seek someone better suited?" asked Solas.

"Yes," Dorian pointed a long finger towards an unmoving figure standing near the medical tents. "I believe it's that uncanny woman waiting by the gate. Showed up this morning and hasn't budged an inch."

"_Hey! Are you my new trainer?"_ The Inquisitor's voice rang out through the spacious courtyard. It seemed that Vivienne had also informed Chiyo of the stranger's purpose.

"_I am your trainer!"_ replied the eccentric woman, her voice matching in loudness. _"I have studied the rifts!"_

"_Good! Well study this!" _Solas tilted, hands clenched against the hewn stone as he watched the reckless Herald leap from her perch and drop in a blur of luminous green, much to the equaled exasperation of the accomplished confidante at her side and the many onlookers.

The spying Red Jenny, hanging from her window, cackled. She whistled at the vocal snark and the flashy departure. But Sera quickly ducked away when the richly dressed mage turned in her boisterous direction.

"I think I've read poetry about that emotion— I so wish you could see your own face. Let me guess; boulder on the chest, lungs made of lead, nerves full of spiders—dare I say it Solas, are you tied in a lover's knot?" Dorian chortled and nudged at the overwrought elf with his elbow, beaming at the sight of such a stoic man lost for words. "That mark has certainly made a very special mage of her."

"What if it's not the mark though?" Solas questioned, finally looking away as the Inquisitor continued her introductions to the newest resident of Skyhold. "What if this has been her destiny all along, with or without the Anchor?"

Dorian had just begun to walk away, leaving the other man to stew unaccompanied. But he halted, having one final thought for their original conversation. "About the blood magic…"

"Yes?"

"Let me write a few letters."

* * *

><p>Ok, just a quick warning for people who need it: chapter 15 may be more... adult... than the rest. But there will be trigger warnings listed and I will be attempting to maintain the T-rating. But I'm not going to lie, things could get a little on the M spectrum. If anyone has a specific trigger they need to be informed of, do not hesitate to contact me.<p>

Previously Unclarified Available Translations:

Ma emma harel- you should fear me

Ma isala hamin- you need to rest

Eth sahlin- safe now

Na inan venar- look at me

Ma sa'lath- my one love


End file.
